


Hypothetical Daze

by mitsuboo



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comedy, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Healthy Relationships, Mental Illness, Slow Burn, Some angst, Teen Romance, Temporary Amnesia, Unresolved Tension, Wholesome Fun, byleth is a student, exploring friendships, lots of tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:02:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23182165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitsuboo/pseuds/mitsuboo
Summary: A student with a goddess inside of her learns how to make friends.A prince with the ghosts of his past falls deeply, maddeningly, irrevocably in love.Fate, war, and mental illness try their damnedest to keep them apart.It really is quite frustrating.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & My Unit | Byleth, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 23
Kudos: 123





	1. Prologue

_I closed my lids, and kept them close,_

_And the balls like pulses beat;_

_For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky_

_Lay dead like a load on my weary eye,_

_And the dead were at my feet._

\- Samuel Taylor Coleridge "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner"

* * *

**Prologue**

**Imperial Year 1185**

Byleth always caught him staring at her. 

It had been poorly concealed this time. Dimitri had not ever been so obvious with his studying of her face. He would give a baleful glance, or a glare that would turned away the second she caught it. This stare, however, was steady and unwavering, and there was something in his expression that she had trouble reading. She felt shriveled, as if she was an ant under a looking glass, threatening to burn with the sun's gaze. Dimitri simply didn't care if he was caught this time. So, politely, she said nothing about it, and let him continue to stare. 

The trees were thick around the little clearing that they deemed camp. Fortunately, the cold and brambly forest of the Southernmost part of Faerghus was loud with activity. The crickets and birds went about their business and ignored the two humans taking up their space below. Byleth felt comfortable, settled into her blanket on the soft dirt and leaves beneath her. "It's like I've been doing this all my life." She commented under her breath. 

It was enough to wake the prince's senses up. Just barely, he straightened his posture underneath his muddy, matted fur cloak, and moved his leg to rest his arm upon his knee. He was still tense as ever, his senses on high as if he expected something to spring out from the trees and attack. Byleth looked at him from across the small fire she had been feeding, and almost grimaced at the sight of such a man. He was like a stray dog, snarling and scared at any open hands. 

He made a noise deep in his throat. It was almost thoughtful - if he could ever make such a sentiment in his current state. "You're not lying to me."

She furrowed her brows, "Yes."

"You're fortunate." He scoffed, it was a sound similar to a bitter laugh, "To forget all that happened, not all of us have that commodity."

It wasn't as if she had agreed to this inane journey because she believed his statements about her held truth, but she was interested. Her utter lack of background had left her wanting so much more, wishing that she understood who she was and what she had been doing before she woke up five years earlier. Yet, nothing in life was that easy, she knew, and nobody else so far had offered anything even close to an answer. Nobody besides Dimitri. 

"Who was I?" It was dangerous to ask, yes she couldn't resist the temptation any longer. 

He was more calm today than usual, and it was the only reason why he wasn't stalking away in anger at her inquiry. All of the other times she asked were only met with sneers and a command to not pry into what was not important to him. She had to know, though, if this journey she undertook with this dirty, feral man would give her the answers she had been seeking for five whole years. 

He was tense, the grip on the lance that sat beside him tightening until his knuckles were white. His one eye flickered to stare at the trees behind her. There was a heavy pause between them before he began to speak.

"You were part of the dead that haunted me... You would appear to me, in your uniform covered in blood and blame me for your death." His passion and anger grew, his shoulders hunching even more and his chest rising with the pain of remembering, "You would tell me that I couldn't even save my best friend, and you were correct. I couldn't. I could do _nothing_ to help you in my weakness. _That_ is who you were. _Do not ask me that again_."

She stared at him as he pushed himself up and gloomily stalked away, mumbling something about the dead under his breath. Byleth could only watch his retreating figure, silent and wondering. For, he had only confused the amnesiac girl even more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few non-spoiler details on the characters and plot:
> 
> \- Byleth is 18, and a little more naive. She's not the one guiding everybody, so she's not as important to the students as we see in the canon game, she's just another student and more their peer rather than a guiding force. She still has Sothis and all that jazz, but it doesn't matter as much because, well, Blue Lions route. 
> 
> \- I'll be following the main gist of the game, but putting a different spin on it. This story won't follow the same dialogue or actions of what happens in canon.
> 
> \- If you have any poetry suggestions for the headings of each chapter that you'd like to share, I'd love to see them! 
> 
> \- I hope you all enjoy this little project of mine! I love responding to comments, and getting honest feedback! Thank you so much for checking my story out!


	2. Byleth

_I saw a rosebud ope this morn; I'll swear the blushing morning opened not more fair_

\- Abraham Cowley "The Spring"

* * *

The war ended with a simple dagger, as always.

It was the only sight that would make Byleth sick to her stomach, despite having seen it nearly every night her life. The red coated blade, plunged into the heart of the man lying on the ground. Over and over, the woman on top of him lifted it up into the air, and brought it down once more with a desperate cry. Her hair fell into her face, and sweat lined her brow as she screamed of her mother. 

The army around the woman began to cheer, and it all began to fade. 

Byleth had a difficult time sleeping well. Her brain had a terrible habit of being overactive with thoughts of the day. Speculations and conversations played back and forth in her head, oftentimes leaving her awake in her bedroll with the stars shining above her. Upon finally falling asleep, the dreams would begin. Every night were the same two dreams that she had been having since she was a child. A war, and a girl on a throne. She would listen to the men in her father's mercenary band relay their quirky dreams or odd nightmares, and she would simply wonder what it was like to imagine something else for a night. She tried desperately, even thinking of one specific thing that she was determined to dream about, hoping it would show up, yet it never did. The war was loud and bloody, and the girl was always asleep and ignoring her. She would wake up every morning confused and disoriented, feeling sick.

Naturally, mornings were not Byleth's friend, yet Jeralt had wanted to escape Remire village as quickly as possible. They had stayed for too long in the small village, and while the innkeeper appreciated the business, Jeralt never let the men to get comfortable. He had repaid his debt to the people, his protection in return for a few weeks of shelter and food. The old Knight always seemed antsy by this time, as if something was on his heels and he needed to start running again.

He was standing over her, shaking her side with a rough hand. A few rough shakes later and her eyes were open with the cheers from the war fading into the back of her mind. She kept her head on her pillow and closed her eyes again. Jeralt sighed, "Come on, kid, rise and shine."

She simply could _not_ shine at the moment, yet she would attempt to rise. She pushed herself up off her pillow by the palms of her hands, her blue hair sticking out in all directions. "I had that dream again." Her voice was gravelly with sleep.

"Which one?"

"The war." Slowly, she sat up completely and crossed her legs, "That's the third time this week."

"It's that weird stew you ate last night," Jeralt brushed her off, picking up her cloak and tossing it at her, "Don't think too much of it. We've got to go. Once you're dressed, get the horses ready for me, won't ya?" It was more of a command than a request. 

Byleth wordlessly nodded and stood from her bedroll. She began to pull on her leather armor over her night clothes as Jeralt left the tent. She would miss Remire village, and that weird stew or the cat that liked to follow her around. Yet there was no personal attachment between her and the villagers, who usually avoided her, with her avoiding them in return. 

The sun outside was bright, hitting her like a slap to the face. The mercenary band tended to sleep in due to hangovers. Byleth partook very little in the wild drinking, yet she shared their sentiments with preferring a morning indoors. The sun was especially strong this morning. 

She side stepped a few of the men as they groaned and complained about having duties this early. The horses seemed to be the only content ones, waiting patiently to be given attention to. She walked up to a Clydesdale and stroked his long nose. Closing her eyes, she tried to find something to appreciate about the surroundings. The forest had a grassy smell to it that was nice, the creek nearby bubbled with a very calming tone, and the sunshine felt nice on her head. Yet, the desire for sleep and the reminder of the troublesome recurring dreams pecked at the back of her mind. "Let's just try to get through this journey." She opened her eyes to meet the brown ones of the horse, who, obviously, remained silent in response - just the way she preferred. 

She began to saddle up the horses, one by one, while the other men around her gathered tents and food together for the journey. As Byleth put a bag on the saddle of a brown chestnut horse, she froze at a sound in a distance.

A yell. A command, from a man. It had came from the left where the tree-line was especially thick. Several other mercenaries stood up and looked in the same direction, asking their comrades if they heard the noise as well. 

Her hand went to the iron sword at her belt, and she began to stalk into the trees around her. Upon seeing that Byleth was taking the lead to investigate, the other mercenaries resumed their work without a care. She entered the forest alone, and the leaves crunched softly underneath her feet. The people from far off seemed to make as much noise as they possibly could among the thickets and branches. Her hand tightened around the hilt of her sword as she advanced towards the sounds. Another hurried, breathy command from the same man's voice, "This way, Claude, the villagers said to the West."

"How do you know that's West?"

"He has a compass, fool." A woman this time, flat and laced with annoyance at the other man's voice. 

Byleth kept walking towards them. The possibility of it being a trap was high, as there was a group of bandits that had taken up residence nearby. Yet, they had been dealt with once before by Jeralt and Byleth, and would not make another move at them until some time had passed. It had to be something different.

Through the trees ahead of her she could make out splashes of blue and red fabric that moved with the bodies they was attached to. A playful voice spoke up among the muttered complaints of the woman, "Hey, I think we're being watched."

Byleth froze. 

A few more rustles, footsteps crunching the leaves below. Above her, branches shook, and a tanned man in yellow and black climbed up a tree, settling on a tall branch, and looking down at her. "Hey."

She paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts as she stared up at him. He had what Jeralt would call a bullshitter's smile, the curve of the lips charming, and the intent underneath unreadable. They studied each other, and Byleth pretended to not notice the other man and the woman attempt to cut their way through the thick vine and bush of the forest to reach her. 

The yellow one was the first to break eye contact. He looked down at them, "I told you guys that we should just climb our way to safety."

"I am perfectly capable on the ground, thank you," the blond one pulled out a prickly vine that had stuck it's way into his boot. He looked at Byleth then, giving a small sigh of relief, "And I have to say, I'm quite relieved to see human life that's not trying to kill us."

"How do you know she's not trying to kill us?" The white haired woman challenged, gesturing to Byleth's sword, "She could be with the thieves, for all we know."

Her words caught Byleth's attention enough to snap back down to Fodlan. The grip on her sword loosened and she cocked her head at the two people, while behind them the yellow one dropped down gracefully from the tree and stood up to dust off his pants. She looked at the woman, "I'm not with the thieves."

"Edelgard, with all due respect, why would a thief be this close to the mercenaries?" The blond one questioned, then looked to Byleth, "We were attacked outside of Remire village."

"And me, being the brains of this group, ran off to find the mercenary camp the villagers had mentioned were here." The brown haired one announced.

The woman scoffed, "You were escaping and leaving us to deal with the thieves on our own."

"A tactical retreat."

She gave him a look that would wither flowers, yet he just laughed in return. Byleth continued to stare, unsure how to respond to the communication between the three. They all seemed to be about her age, 17 or 18, and so different from each other. She didn't have much experience with others her age, her only association usually was her father and the other old mercenaries who treated her like a daughter, sneaking her drinks of beer and trying to tell her scary ghost stories. How people her age acted was completely foreign to the blue haired girl.

She felt the need to say something, yet all that came out was an unsure 'um'. She took a moment to process her words, "Are you... needing my help?"

The blond stared at her for a minute as if he was trying to read her, then furrowing his brows as he realized he couldn't. "Yes," he spoke slowly, also processing. His words seemed to catch up to his brain and he spoke more quickly, "My name is Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, these are my fellow students of Garreg Mach Monastery. We were doing training drills near the village when we were ambushed by a group of bandits. The villagers earlier had mentioned that a mercenary group had been camping out near here."

"Yeah, we should probably take care of those bad guys. Claude's the name, by the way," The other man slung his arm around Dimitri's shoulder and grinned, "And princess Edel here too."

"Edelgard Von Hressvlg," she corrected properly, "a pleasure to meet you."

Byleth assumed that it would be proper in this moment to give a polite nod to her, and to the others. Her mind was far away, on her father and the men back in the camp, who were all so busy packing up to leave. She bit her lip and looked away, "It would take a while for the others to get their things together, and if the bandits are that close to the village... I wonder if we four could just take care of it ourselves?"

"I'm not sure if that's wise," Dimitri began to challenge, yet was interrupted by Claude slapping a hand on his shoulder. 

"There weren't that many of them," said the one who had ran away in a strategic retreat, "and she's got a point, they were pretty close by the village. Who knows how much they've plundered by now."

Edelgard agreed with confidence, "We should get there as quickly as possible." She turned around to begin making her way back, with Claude sliding his hand off Dimitri's shoulder to make a 'follow' gesture at Byleth.

She glanced up at Dimitri, who was tense, and with a blank expression, she reassured, "It'll be okay. I'll make sure nothing happens to any of you. I have a lot of experience in battle." She had never been very good at reassurance, it had simply been what sounded proper in her mind to say to someone who seemed as if he needed it. She could tell, though, that her blank expression had unnerved him. 

Dimitri merely blinked, and nodded in a slow agreement. He could appreciate the odd girl's attempt at comfort, at least.

The four of them began to hurry as they drew closer into the area, drawing their weapons. Byleth slipped back into focus, her senses sharpening and her mind coming down from the clouds. "Claude, stay behind and cover us. Dimitri, take the lead, and Edelgard, stay at my side."

If Byleth could feel a rush, she would've felt it then. And if she had the ability to feel adrenaline, it would've been pumping through her veins. While not a particularly hard battle, and while she fought alongside three others who seemed to know their way around their own weapons, simply the fact that she was in battle without her father watching over her was what might cause exhilaration - if she could know what that would even feel like. 

Of course, Byleth did not expect to _die_ exactly 10 minutes later.

Especially not at the exact moment that Jeralt appeared on the edge of the battlefield, atop his horse and fuming with anger at her first ever rebellion. 

"Kid," his voice boomed, "What in Seiros' name do you think you're doing?"

She looked up, the other teenagers around her looking at him as well. Other mercenaries surrounded him, gaping in awe at the bodies of bandits lying on the ground. They were having trouble comprehending that a few kids could do that kind of damage, though they expected as much from Byleth herself. She simply bit her lip, and took a step towards her father, "They needed help."

"You should've called me." He reprimanded. He dropped off the side of his horse and leveled her with a disapproving stare, "You could've gotten killed."

In her mind, she argued with him, yet on the outside, her tongue was held. Before she could form a response to his frustration, Byleth noticed a twitch on the ground in front of her. A set of grubby fingers reaching for a hand axe, and the tensing of leg muscles. A second later, the bandit leader himself was up and running with speed she didn't think a man of that size would possess. He was aimed towards Edelgard. Without any other thoughts in her mind, Byleth lunged in the way of his weapon. 

If Byleth had a choice of how she could die, it certainly would not be by axe. 

The very thought of such a thing made her lips twist into a grimace, much like the one her pale face held now. The thought of an axe into her back didn't simply have to be a thought, for it's blade was digging into her flesh in that very moment. If she could think about it, she was sure she could feel the pain of it, the fire of it's cold iron, or the sting of it's blow. Yet, the only thing she truly took in was the sound of her father yelling. His voice sounded as if it had been coming from a room down a hallway, though he was just a few feet away, running towards her with wide eyes. His cry was cottony, somehow, and that was the moment Byleth realized that her father's prediction was true - she _could_ get killed. She was getting killed in that very moment.

She wished it had been a spear, or even something smaller, a dagger perhaps. Axes just tended to make so much blood gush, and her innate politeness told her that she was getting blood onto Edelgard's nice looking boots. She let out a struggled, "Sorry," and collapsed. 

* * *

The girl on the throne was _not_ happy. She was tired, irritable, her back hurt, and there was a mortal standing before her who had just taken a very sharp weapon to the back.

"Are you stupid?"

Byleth thought so, yes, sometimes at least. She was only human, and humans could be very stupid at times. She merely looked up at the green haired girl, craning her neck to see her childish face, awake for once, "I... guess so." There was not much thought put into her response, as she was distracted by the chill of the void around her. It was so familiar, somewhere she visited almost every other night. 

"You are!" She affirmed in a high pitched squeal, "You're so stupid! Do you not understand the value of your own life? Do you understand what just happened?"

"I died."

"Ugh." She flopped lazily onto the stone throne and rolled her eyes, "Just _what_ are we going to do now?"

"Die." Byleth shrugged.

"No! Again, do you not understand the value of your own life?"

The blue haired mercenary _would_ be annoyed right now, if only she could feel the twinge of irritation inside her. She felt nothing, and only looked at the green haired girl with a blank stare. Her look conveyed nothing, and her voice was flat, "I guess I don't," in a rare moment of sarcasm, she tossed her hand, "Why don't you just rewind time?"

Silence.

The young girl blinked, looking down at the human before her. 

She blinked again, then cocked her head in thought.

Her brows furrowed, and she leaned back into her throne and perched her chin onto her fist. She could've been an old painting in that moment, dignified and looking older than she was, "Yes..." She was tasting the thought on her tongue, letting it melt like sugar, "I could. I _do_ have the power to do that. My name..." she exhaled excitedly, "is Sothis, I remember now... and I can rewind time! I wonder how you knew..." She sat up, clapping her hands, "It's decided! I'll rewind time so you can re-do that dumb moment of yours and keep living! How's that sound?"

It was a more pleasant reaction to her sardonic reply than she expected. Byleth raised her eyebrows and slowly nodded, "I... yes. Good. Thank you."

"You're welcome!" She giggled, "Now _live_!"

Byleth's eyes shot open right as the bandit leader pounced up from the ground. Time had been rewound.

She gripped her sword and took her place in front of Edelgard, swiping at his incoming axe. The blunt force of it vibrated right down to her wrists, but she kept her grip strong. The axe swung out of his hands and buried itself into the ground nearby. He took a step back, wide eyed with disbelief. 

"Let's get out of here!" The surviving bandits yelled. The group scattered like mice. After watching the retreat, Edelgard put a delicate hand on Byleth's shoulder in thanks. Her smile held relief, and Byleth was able to let go of her tension as the others surrounded her with excitement. Jeralt, nearby, shook his head and gave a tired, yet relieved smile. 

"I didn't die," she lied. Her back stung where the axe had buried itself before, but she knew it was untouched in this reality, "Nobody did."

"Well, that's great, kid." He was tired, but smiled nonetheless. His eyes scanned the other teenagers, raising an eyebrow at Dimitri who was giving him a quick, formal bow and beginning to introduce himself. Claude was much more laid back, though he had his eyes on something behind Byleth. She followed his gaze, turning around just in time to catch the glare of the sun hitting a set of polished, bright armor. 

She shut her eyes closed. She hated when people would polish their armor to the brim like that, it always made them hard to look at. She opened her eyes when the bright man yelled, "Children! Where's your teacher? What happened? Is that- Is that Jeralt?"

"Oh, _great_."

Dimitri glanced at Byleth as the shiny armored man made a run towards her father, "Thank you, I suppose we'll be going back with Alois for now." He looked at the man in question. Jeralt was grimacing, rubbing the back of his neck and looking at Alois as if he was a rotten meal, "Is he your commander?"

"He's my father," she answered simply. 

"Father?" Alois perked up at her like a dog seeing a treat. If he had ears they'd be standing, "Wow! I didn't think Jeralt had a kid! You two have to come back with us, the Knights of Seiros _needs_ you!"

"Knights of... who?" She furrowed her brows.

"Seiros! Ya know... do you know?"

"No."

Jeralt sighed, "I've tried to keep her away from that kind of stuff. But I guess it's time to stop running," he pulled himself up onto his horse, "Can't really escape from the Knights."

Alois seemed to giggle, "No, you can't."

* * *

Byleth felt odd. Out of place, or simply awkward. It wasn't a common feeling for her, and she was sure her face didn't show it. Yet, she felt the need to move and get away from the three nobles that were by her side. 

Sothis was in the back of her mind like a constant buzz. Her little tidbits and additions to the conversation were enough to make Byleth jump in surprise. To the others, the blue haired girl looked incredibly jittery, as if she had drank too much coffee. Yet, no matter the amount of coffee, she knew it could not manifest voices in her head. She was only present for the moment, just as Dimitri, who was at her left, began to speak. 

"I was impressed by your fighting earlier, you seem quite skilled." 

She glanced at him in acknowledgement, yet kept silent.

To her right, Edelgard suddenly stopped in her tracks. She had been waiting for the opportunity to open, and was ready to pounce, "Yes! You are quite skilled. That is why I'd like to ask you to lend your support to the Emp-"

Dimitri put up a hand to stop her, "Halt, Edelgard, allow me to finish my own request first." The four of them were now stopped while the knights and Jeralt were walking ahead, "Faerghus is in need of faithful and talented knights-"

It was Claude who interrupted this time, "Jeez, you guys, pouncing on her like a pack of wolves. I was planning on building a deep and lasting friendship before I talked about the Alliance."

Byleth appreciated his interruption. She wished to stay silent, nervous and uncomfortable with speaking of normal things, much less loyalty to one of the three territories of Fodlan. 

Also, she had _no_ idea who her loyalty belonged to. And no idea who these people even _were_ , and why they were requesting her loyalty in the first place. 

" _Your place of birth... it seems important to them. Do you know where you where born?_ " Sothis asked in her head. 

No, Byleth did not, yet they waited for an answer. The adults up ahead had noticed the teenagers weren't moving, and stopped to wait for them, simply adding more pressure onto Byleth as she realized the Nobles would not move on until she told them. 

"I don't know what nationality I am," she began, "yet... I do know that I love the scenery of the Empire... The Alliance territories are very generous... but the Kingdom of Faerghus has the kindest, most hard working people I've ever met," she met Dimitri's eyes, they were curious and wide as she spoke, "so... good job on that."

"Well," he cleared his throat, surprised, "thank you very much."

She was silent in reply, trying to not encourage anymore conversation on the matter. A small nod was sufficient enough to get the gaggle of teenagers moving again. Eventually, they caught up with the knights, and Byleth listened to a conversation between Claude and Dimitri over the semantics of a lance versus a sword. Edelgard walked beside her, occasionally catching her eye enough to give a sardonic roll at the heat of the conversation between the boys. 

The monastery eventually loomed ahead. It was tall and dark, spiraling towers like fingers reaching out to touch the clouds. For such a behemoth of a building to be so close to Remire village, and for Byleth to never even notice it, she was re-thinking her observational skills. 

The crowd of knights and students kicked up dirt clouds on their way down the path to the entrance. The trees had thinned, revealing a pasture of greenery and farms with merchants and buyers milling about. The front gate was open, and the inside courtyard was busy with activity. Byleth had never been to a city before, never even having visited the capital of any territory. Jeralt avoided crowded areas at all costs, and even while entering the crowded monastery he held a look of discomfort and disdain for his surroundings. 

Guards stood at all the entrances, their armor just as shiny and polished as Alois'. Byleth studied them as she walked past, wondering if that tin they wore deflected anything besides the sun. Dimitri glanced at her as she fell behind while taking in all the new sights. He paused in his tracks and gestured at her, "Don't get lost, it might take a while to find you."

He was polite, with a hint of amusement in his words. Byleth took her attention off a food stand nearby with grilled meats that perfumed the air around her. She merely nodded, and the two did a quick jog to keep up with the rest of the group. The crowd began to thin out as they reached the courtyard where a group of students were practicing magic. 

The walk was long, through gardens and large halls all the way to the bridge that connected the academy to the chapel. Students milled about on the bridge, some sitting on the side and laughing as priests barked at them to get down. Above was a ledge that stretched out to overlook the entire premises. Byleth craned her neck to see the person standing on it, dressed in white and looking right back down at her. 

"Rhea," Jeralt muttered bitterly, "Watch yourself."

She nodded, trusting in her father. The group entered the chapel, and began to go upstairs to meet whoever was waiting for them. Alois held Dimitri, Claude, and Edelgard back, and Byleth had expected to be held back as well, yet a guard urged her to follow Jeralt and the other knights up. The stairway opened to a large audience chamber, with a simple throne at the very end. The woman that Jeralt had referred to as Rhea had left her spot on the balcony to stand in the middle of the room, hands folded over each other, waiting for the arrival of her guests.

Byleth studied her. There was not one green hair out of place on the elegant woman. She patted down her own choppy locks in an effort to look nicer, pulling out a dried leaf in the process and tossing it on the ground carelessly. The man beside Rhea raised a brow at the teenager, then cleared his throat for introductions. "I am Seteth, and this is Archbishop Rhea. You have our thanks for saving our students."

Jeralt merely made a noise under his breath in response, brushing it off completely and not even looking at Rhea or Seteth as he turned his attention to look at Byleth instead. He studied her reaction to the situation, "This is my daughter, Byleth. She's the one who saved your students, not me." 

Rhea had a small, serene smile, "I did not know you had a child, Jeralt..."

"Yep. Had her a few years after I left," he was nonchalant.

She cocked her head to the left ever so slightly, a small movement that spoke all the words she needed. "And her mother?"

"Passed on a while back."

Rhea turned her attention to Byleth, who was giving her a blank stare. Those who knew her would recognize the particular stare as one of curiosity. The Archbishop sent her a heavenly smile, "Poor soul, losing a mother so young. I bet you have had a very hard time."

Byleth didn't really _think_ she had a hard time, yet she was moved to internally agree with the green haired woman. She was mildly dazzled, having never seen another human being quite like her. She was poised, beautiful, without one visible flaw. Byleth had never been one for vanity, she had never had an opportunity to care about such things, yet looking at Rhea made her long for something more, even if she could not put her finger on what it was.

With her head in the clouds, Byleth only made a small hum in response. It was enough for Rhea. She then put her palms together and nodded, closing her eyes to smile, "Well, I hope you two can stay. I would like to make an offer..." Jeralt shifted uncomfortably, yet the Archbishop was serene, "Sir Jeralt, we would like to offer you a position as a captain of the Knights of Seiros. And Byleth... the monastery does not usually do this, but we have a position open in the Blue Lions class. I would like for you to stay here as a student on a scholarship." 

Seteth tensed up, head whipping to look at the Archbishop beside him. He paused to compose himself, then leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Are you sure? We don't know who this girl is, and I thought we were giving the scholarship to someone else."

"I believe Byleth here deserves it more," Rhea answered, gesturing to the girl and smiling.

"The Blue Lions don't even have a teacher!"

"Seiros will provide."

"Rhea, I beg you to reconsider. We should not be adding more students to a class when said class does not even have a professor!" 

Byleth ignored their back and forth, trying to focus on her own feelings at the proposition. She felt very little, with a slight sense of contentment at the thought of staying in a new place. There was an uncertainty about what a 'scholarship' meant, on whether she would be made to scrub the floors or do laundry. Yet, the idea of wandering the gardens, training, and eating from the merchant stands at the market intrigued her. She looked to Jeralt for approval, and he looked straight ahead at something beyond Seteth and Rhea. He was lost in thought, the lines of age and worry making themselves more apparent than ever on his face. 

Just last month Jeralt had been injured in battle, a shoulder injury that made had him rest in bed for a few days. It should've been weeks, yet his desire to keep running from something had forced him to get up and move again. Byleth had been so worried, and had been thinking lately of just how _old_ her father truly is. The real number wasn't known, but she knew it was older than most people guessed. 

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, "I don't want my father to be a Knight."

Rhea was not phased, "Oh?"

"He can be the Blue Lions professor." It was presumptuous, she knew, yet her words kept tumbling out, "He's taught me my entire life, everything I know. He's too old to fight anymore."

Jeralt looked at her as if he thought she was crazy, but she would not meet his eyes. His mouth gaped open, and he shook his head, "What are you talking about, kid?"

Seteth and Rhea watched the young girl with curiosity. They stood in front of her, eyes on her, and minds running with possibilities.

Eventually, Seteth shrugged, "I suppose that would work. He has the experience for it. Rhea," he glanced her way, "what do you think?"

"Yes," the Archbishop agreed, "It would work beautifully. Jeralt Eisner, we leave the Blue Lions in your hands."


	3. Settling

_April is the cruelest month, breeding_

_Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing_

_Memory and desire, stirring_

_Dull roots with spring rain._

\- T. S. Elliot "The Waste Land"

* * *

Byleth's room was small, but it was warm. And it was more than she could ever ask for. 

"I've never had a room before," her expression was soft, whispered under her breath. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and a sigh escaped from her lips. It was possibly the most outward show of emotion that she had expressed in the entire tour of Garreg Mach so far. 

Next to her, Annette was in disbelief. Her eyebrows had shot up under her red bangs, and she could only stare at Byleth. " _You_ _haven't_?"

Byleth nodded silently, yet provided no other explanation. How nobles lived their lives had never been of any concern to her, though she supposed that they wouldn't have the experience of camping out on an entirely regular basis. Byleth had done it nearly every day of her life, putting up with her father's stinginess with money and very rarely springing for a night at an inn. The other mercenaries had even joked that Jeralt would fight battles with a lance in one hand and Byleth bundled up in the other due to him never wanting to pay for a babysitter.

She glanced at Annette and bowed her head slightly in a show of thanks, "I appreciate you showing me here."

Annette's cheer returned, replacing her confusion with a bright smile, "Of course! I'm really happy to! Us scholarship kids gotta stick together, ya know?"

Byleth had met Annette after leaving her audience with the Archbishop. Jeralt had stayed behind to continue discussing the details with them, while Byleth was free to roam, and was encouraged to meet the other students at the academy. Annette had been rushing around the front area of the chapel, muttering under her breath and looking around corners as if she were playing a very stressful game of hide and seek. Byleth had stopped to watch her, trying to figure out who or what the other girl was trying so hard to find. Eventually, Annette noticed her, and made her introductions. 

Byleth had explained that she was joining the Blue Lions, and that Rhea had given her a scholarship. It was through her red-headed classmate that Byleth had learned that one usually needed to come from another school or have a very great achievement to earn a scholarship. She felt a bit like a fraud, but was not one to refuse the generosity of another. Her main motive for accepting, though, was her was curiosity of why Rhea was moved to do such a thing in the first place.

The two girls stood on the wooden deck in front of Byleth's room, enjoying the spring breeze and looking at the small space that she would soon occupy. "So, we eat dinner around 5 p.m. and if you come to my room afterwards I always provide dessert!"

A pause, the breeze moving red tendrils across Annette's cheeks as they reddened drastically. She sucked in a deep breath, "I-I mean... Not that! Ugh, Sylvain told me to stop saying stuff like that! Don't get the wrong idea, I'm not implying anything!"

Of course Byleth understood perfectly, and the same thought had even sprung to her own mind before Annette had even began to defend herself. The group she had ran with her entire life were not known for their polite and gentle talk. Yet, for her classmate's sake, she simply shook her head and pursed her lips as she lied, "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Oh good," she sighed in relief and patted her shoulder, "you're innocent. Sylvain says that I shouldn't be a tease, but I'm not teasing anybody! I never think of that kind of stuff, ya know? A-Anyway... I'm just digging myself into a hole. I better go, I have to meet up with my study group soon." This girl didn't seem to breath between words. She took a step down the stairs, almost hopping her way down as she began her retreat from the lingering awkwardness of her own blunder, "I'll see you in class tomorrow!" 

Byleth gave a small wave and watched her transition into a slow jog down the grassy area, towards the pond and the greenhouse down the hill. It was a new experience for her, who had barely ever even _spoken_ to someone her age. In the villages she had mainly been avoided, or she simply kept close to her father and the other men. Despite her situation, she never felt very lonely, never having the urge to make friends or have peers similar to her. She couldn't really bring herself to have an opinion on the matter in the first place. Watching Annette retreat, though, made her feel amused, curious as to what would happen with her next exchange with someone. The conversations they shared played over again in her head, and she realized that she appreciated her classmates ability to fill the air with talk, allowing Byleth to silently nod and listen. 

Other students in their black and gold uniforms meandered by, enjoying the sunshine and sending her curious glances from afar. She chose to ignore them and turn her attention towards her room, her very own space that she wouldn't have to set up and take down every day. 

She stepped inside, and closed the door, closing out the world behind her. 

* * *

"So, this is a first for all of us." Jeralt opened a drawer behind his desk, reached into his front coat pocket, and took out a wooden flask. He dropped it into the drawer, then closed it with a resounding bang. At the next table over, a grey haired boy jumped in his seat at the sound. Jeralt straightened up to look at everybody in the classroom, and continued to speak, "I've never taught brats like you before, but I'll try my best. First, I want everybody to tell me their name, and then we'll start with the basics."

The academy had not been open for the new school year for very long, yet the Blue Lions had already chosen all of their favorite seats. The only open seat that Byleth could take was beside Dimitri, who was so tall and gangly in the bench that his knees had knocked the table several times already, and class had just started. Upon the second time of his knee knocking down the pencil cup, Byleth understood why nobody had wanted to sit beside him. They were the first table to introduce themselves, Dimitri simply nodding and telling Jeralt his full name - which was a mouthful in Byleth's opinion - and Jeralt proceeding to skip over his own daughter with a grunt and move on to the grey haired boy at the table to her right. Ashe was his name, and the grumpy looking boy beside him was Felix. 

Dimitri was in the process of gathering up the pencils that were rolling across the desk, "Sorry about that. This bench is a little small, don't you think?"

Wordlessly, she looked behind her at the even taller dark skinned man that sat at the table behind them. He looked right back at her with a stony expression. Dimitri followed her gaze to him and cleared his throat in embarrassment, "Oh yes, well, Dedue's grace is an exception to tall men everywhere."

Next to Dedue was a pretty woman with long blonde hair, curly and almost unruled if not for the band that held it in place. She put a delicate hand to her mouth and giggled, "He'll knock over something every once in a while, but it's quite alright! If he hadn't of knocked over our cup last week I would've never found my lucky pencil!" At the front of the room, Jeralt cleared his throat, his eyes landing right on her. She perked up and waved her hand gently, "Oh, I'm sorry professor, I wasn't paying attention! My name is Mercedes Von Martritz."

Byleth turned back around in her seat as Jeralt moved onto Dedue, then to the next table where two other students named Sylvain and Ingrid announced themselves, and at the table behind them sat Annette, who was alone, yet surrounded by piles of books and papers, most likely choosing to be alone due to needing extra space for erratic scribbling. 

"Now that we're all introduced," Jeralt crossed his arms and gave a smile that only lifted the corner of his mouth, "Why don't we get started?"

* * *

Byleth had always _heard_ of the concept of a class, yet actually being a part of one was dizzying. 

She stared down at the paper in front of her, looking at her small amount of notes and rubbing her sore fingers. Training with a sword was much different than training with a pencil, and a quick glance over at Dimitri confirmed that she was nothing compared to him. He had two sheets full of written notes on the basic tactics and battle plans. Jeralt had been teaching things that were not anything new to Byleth, though she found herself zoned out for half of the lecture. Even Sothis had eventually fallen back to sleep in the back of her mind. Learning battle while actually _in_ battle was one thing, and hearing about it from a teacher was another. 

"You took a lot of notes," she commented, earning his attention, "Does your hand hurt?"

"A little bit, but I've learned to not hold the pencil too tightly," he explained, "I've had the ghost of many a broken pencil haunt me."

A joke. She could recognize them when they happened, but could never make herself react naturally. The last time she had fake laughed it was apparently very unnerving, and she was begged to not ever do it again. So, she reacted with what was natural for her, merely humming and nodding, then turned her head away to watch Jeralt pack up his few papers to leave, letting the class disperse as they pleased. 

Dimitri looked at her, a polite smile on his lips as he watched her reaction, himself rather unnerved by her. His attention was grabbed by Sylvain sauntering up to their table, and his polite smile fell at the sight of the grin on his old friend's lips. 

"Flirting, are we?"

Byleth looked up at Sylvain, "Who?"

"You two!"

"Us?" She almost seemed to be messing with him, yet Dimitri had trouble telling for sure. 

"Sylvain, stop," the prince was exasperated, "being polite to someone is _not_ flirting. Kindness does not always have to be with the expectation of something in return."

He rolled his eyes and leaned one hand on their table, crossing his legs while standing, "I know that, your highness. I'm just kidding with you. Can't a guy ever have a little fun teasing his old friend?"

Sylvain always did that. He always acted so unruly, then turned the reprimand around to make Dimitri feel as if he had scolded him for no reason. The prince merely sighed and chose to ignore his friend, instead looking at Byleth, "I'd be happy to show you around, if you like."

"Thank you, but..." she looked at Jeralt, standing by the door and waiting for her with an expectant look on his face, "I think my father wanted to go for a walk."

"Oh, yes, of course," he glanced towards the ex-knight, "honestly, I had forgotten that he was your father. You two hardly bear any resemblance."

Sylvain's eyes were wide, "He's your dad? I never would've expected!" He straightened up, pushing himself off the table and stretching his arms out above him, letting them fall to a rest behind his head, "I guess I won't be surprised if you start getting straight A's."

He, obviously, did not understand Jeralt quite yet. Byleth would most likely get the worst of his discipline, simply because his desire for her to succeed was more personal than the others in the class. She wouldn't be surprised if he ended up grading her the most harshly. 

She chose to not reply to Sylvain, instead slinging her legs over the back of the bench and standing up from the table, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Or tonight?" He raised an eyebrow at her, "Dinnertime's at 5, and Annie always has 'dessert' in her room."

From the back of the class, Annette let out a loud 'Hey!' and vaulted a dull pencil at him. It flew through the air, rattling on the floor and earning a laugh from Sylvain as it harmlessly rolled away, several feet off from her intended target, "You missed me!"

Byleth was making her escape during the ensuing chaos. Ingrid had gotten up to yell at Sylvain for being a pervert to Annie, while Dimitri backed Ingrid up with reprimands and stern words. Ashe and Mercedes had already left the classroom, but Felix remained behind to join in on the groaning and complaining about Sylvain, though his words were more biting than the others. Byleth joined her father at the door, and sent a glance to her classmates that remained in the room. 

"Lively bunch, aren't they?" Jeralt questioned. 

She nodded. They seemed to be in their own world of familiarity, something with a thick invisible wall around it that hardly anyone could penetrate. Even Dedue, who sat quietly at the table beside the chaos, looked like he belonged. 

She turned around to step out of the big double doors of the classroom and into the evening sun, deciding to leave it behind her. She was attempting to not dwell on her own conversations with her classmates, knowing that overthinking would get her nowhere. 

Byleth and Jeralt made their way quietly down to the water, which was empty by this point in the evening due to the increase of bugs that came around this time of year. Spring was Byleth's favorite time of year, with the pops of color coming up from the once empty ground. She felt that if she were try this new life in the academy, this season of rebirth and revival was the most fitting for it to happen in. 

Jeralt looked at his rippling reflection in the pond. It warped with every movement of the fish under it's waters, as if he was there one moment, and then rippling away the next. After a pause of the father and daughter staring into the reflective waters, he finally spoke up, "I don't think this is a good idea."

She thought for a second, "Well... The mosquitos aren't out yet, I don't think we'll get bitten."

He rolled his eyes at her attempt at humor, "Not coming down here, I mean coming _here_ in the first place. To Garreg Mach. I left for a reason."

"I had not even known you were before, you never talked about it."

"That's for a reason, kid. I just..." he sighed and ran a calloused hand through his hair, looking frustrated, "I don't know about this."

Nearby, two students exited the greenhouse with a bout of laughter. The sound was bursting through the silence around them, and brought Byleth back down to Fodlan for just a minute. Now Sothis was buzzing around her head, muttering to her about how Jeralt might have a point. _"If he's had a bad experience with this place, maybe he's right to want to leave."_

She knew there was logic in her auditory hallucination's point. She could find herself agreeing with it, the logical part of herself saying _yes, let's go, let's protect ourselves and leave right now._ Yet, she found herself searching for an excuse to not listen to that part of her. 

Mindlessly, she raised a hand to her neck to try and feel a heartbeat. Nothing responded. 

"I told you, you're just not feeling in the right place," he put his fingers under her neck near the area where she was feeling, "see, I feel it right there." 

Byleth gave up on trying to feel her heartbeat. It was merely a way to comfort herself, trying to find it's rhythm. She never could succeed. When she would be caught digging a thumb into her wrist or trying to feel her neck, Jeralt would know that there was something on her mind bothering her. In his own attempt to comfort her, he always found her heart for her, reassuring her that it was still there, even if she couldn't find it herself. This time, he turned his face away and focused on the stonework of the building nearby, trying to hide a flash of guilt that traveled across his face. 

"We don't have to leave right now." 

He was caving in. It was so much easier to feel a negative emotion rather than a positive one. Guilt churned in her stomach as if she had eaten something rotten, and she cleared her throat as she looked up at him, "I just... I'm excited."

Her father looked surprised, "Excited?"

"In a way. It's almost like I'm afraid, but I'm still willing to see what's going to happen," she stared down at her boots, "It's something new. I've done the same thing my entire life."

He was entirely caved in now, she could see it in his posture. His rough heart would always melt. He reached out and ruffled her hair to make it even more messy than it already was. She caught his hand with both of hers, and laced her fingers with his, a rare show of affection between the two. 

"We'll try this out and see how we like it, okay? And if you decide you want to leave, it gets too stressful or something bad happens, then we'll get out of here as fast as we can. Just promise me kid," he leveled her with his eyes, looking serious, "you need to be careful of who you show yourself to. Not everyone here has good intentions."

She wondered what he knew, and why he would be so adamant about this, but she knew that if she asked he would never tell. He was stubborn with his secrets, and would take them to his grave if he had to. 

Almost awkwardly, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and looked toward the dining hall, "Let's go get dinner and eat it in my office tonight. At least let me spend one dinner with my daughter before she becomes the most popular girl at the academy."

"You're delusional," there was a rare time when Jeralt would see her smile. It was small, a barely noticeable tilt of her lips, and only for him. He always managed to catch the smile before it went away again, "I promise I'll be safe."

He was nostalgic, internally cursing himself for being a sappy old man, "That's my girl."


	4. Vignettes

_I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation._

_It is too long ago._

_I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun._

\- Jane Austen "Pride and Prejudice"

* * *

It was a very grey, cloudy day when the students of the Blue Lions had made their first kills. 

Zanado was red. The dirt was clay-like and thick, and it had turned into a mush that was leftover from an early morning rain. Clouds were overcast above the class, threatening to spill themselves out upon them as they took their leave from the canyon. Byleth's hair had become frizzy from the humidity. 

The mission had gone well, nobody was hurt, and the bandits were taken care of just as ordered. Yet, it was a virgin killing for many of the students, who all seemed troubled in their own ways. Sylvain had a look of disgust, while Ingrid next to him put on a brave face and kept her eyes ahead as they made their way out of the canyon to go back to the monastery. 

Ashe walked behind them with his arms crossed over his body as if he was holding himself together. Annette patted his back with a delicate hand as they walked. Felix was at the front of the group with his affinity to keep a faster pace than the others. He seemed unbothered, yet preferring to be alone and to keep his distance. 

Byleth walked next to Mercedes, who had her hands clasped together, palms touching, and lips moving wordlessly. Byleth snuck a few glances towards her older classmate, seeing her brows furrow and her lips purse and pause, then resume their wordless moving. She assumed that she was praying, perhaps for the scrawny archer that she had cast a spell on that made him collapse into the ground lifelessly. 

Dimitri and Dedue were behind them, walking at the end of the group and talking between each other. Byleth had trouble making out what they were saying, but she could hear Dedue's baritone fill the silence around them. Everybody else stayed quiet, entrapped in their own thoughts. 

Jeralt led the charge, walking alongside his horse with one hand holding the leather reigns. His boots were caked with red mud that was quickly drying on the sides. He, too, was quiet, though it was simply out of respect for his students. He took the time to meditate on his own first time in a real battle, the implications of it, and the thoughts that had went through his own head. In a half-hearted attempt at comfort - something he'd never excelled at - he cleared his throat to make the statement, "It'll get easier."

It was met with silence. A few glances were directed at him with a different mix of emotion from each student. Dimitri was the first to respond, "With all due respect, professor, it shouldn't get easier."

"I know..." a sigh, "but it will."

The prince was now just speaking into the air, not saying his words to anyone in particular, "Am I wrong to assign these people humanity? I understand what had to be done for the safety of innocents, but I can only hope that I will _never_ grow comfortable with it."

Felix sighed from the front of the group, "Stop thinking about it, boar. You'll just drive yourself crazy." A rare moment of insult-less wisdom from Felix, yet ruined by him going on, "I bet it's natural for you anyway."

Dimitri chose to not respond, instead shaking his head and returning to his quieted conversation with Dedue. As they kept walking, Ingrid kicked Felix in the back of his knee, making him stumble and whip around to face her, "What was that for?"

"Don't insult his highness."

"Don't kiss his ass!"

The bickering went on, with the two friends stopping in their tracks to argue while the rest of the group dodged them and walked ahead, trying to get out of the canyon and back home as quickly as possible. They had no horses, instead choosing to take the days journey on foot and camp halfway inbetween. Eventually, the red dirt of the canyon with it's craggy landscape would start to turn green, with the trees thickening and the road turning into something more well traveled by merchants and wanderers. 

Felix and Ingrid had caught up, and the bickering had seemed to make the air about the class lighter. The sky was still grey and threatening, but their surroundings had begun to change. Time healed all wounds. 

Annette glanced back at Byleth as they walked, "You've been in battles a bunch of times, I bet. Does it get easier?"

She thought for a moment. It was never easy, though many who saw her assumed that it was for her. She went about her battles with blankness, even more unreadable than usual. She enjoyed the fact that Annette was even asking her in the first place if it got any easier, rather than simply assuming it was. Most of the people Byleth met in the past just assumed that she felt nothing when she battled, that she was cold or had no heart. It would hurt her feelings, though she would never tell them that. 

"It doesn't," she answered truthfully, "but I guess some people have to make the sacrifice of doing it in order to help the people who can't."

Behind her, Dimitri paused his talk with Dedue and stared at the back of Byleth's head curiously. Unaware of his eyes on her, she took Annette's hand, and he watched the two girls wrap their arms around each other, joined a second later by Mercedes, and keep walking down the path. He watched as Byleth's tension slowly eased, and she closed her eyes to take in the physical contact, trying adjust to it's newness. She was simply a young girl in that moment, more human than she's ever been. It was a flash of vulnerability that very few got to see. 

Dedue caught his attention again, and he took his eyes off her, returning back to the conversation at hand and putting his classmate out of his mind. 

* * *

Rhea had the idea that her newest student could use some calming tea and company. 

It was in vain, though, as Byleth was already very calm naturally, and the tea only made her have to pee. 

She stared at the Archbishop across the small table. Croissants and scones filled up the space between the two of them. Byleth tapped a finger against the side of her delicate tea cup, and focused on the small leaves that floated to the top of the brown liquid. Her mind was on what would be the best moment to excuse herself to go to the restroom. She looked up at Rhea and opened her mouth to do so, yet was halted by finding the Archbishop's eyes locked steadily onto her. 

" _How long has she been staring at you?_ " Sothis whispered, mildly creeped out. 

Byleth didn't know. She simply cleared her throat and returned the stare, searching her mind for something to say. Yet, Rhea was the one to break into a small, heavenly smile, and begin the conversation, "Do you like it?"

The student glanced down at her tea, then back up, "Yes, it's good. Thank you."

"I'm happy that you could join me." She picked a scone off the plate in front of her and set it on her own small dish, wiping her fingers onto her napkin, yet not even touching the food, "I thought you might enjoy this particular blend. I save it for when I need to calm down."

Byleth spoke slowly, carefully, "I appreciate you sharing it with me."

"Of course, though I have to admit, I did not invite you to tea simply to share this blend."

Byleth set her cup down with a tiny clang noise upon the saucer, looking at Rhea expectantly.

She went on, "I wanted to see how you were doing, and to... ask something of you." Her chest rose with an exhale under her white robes, then fell as she breathed out through her nose, as if readying herself for her request. There was no hint of her being nervous, she kept her serenity and calm as she looked at Byleth again and drew her pink lips into a motherly smile, "I would like to test you, to see if I can put my trust in you. I suspect that you... are someone very special."

Byleth's reply was on her tongue instantly, "I'm not."

"You _are_ , though, I know it." She cocked her head, green hair falling over her shoulder, "Your father was very special when he was your age, he saved my life once. Your mother... she was very special too."

Rhea was a fisherman, dangling bait right in front of Byleth's nose, and Byleth was the dumbest fish in the pond. "You knew my mother?"

"Oh, yes," the Archbishop waved a hand nonchalantly, "she and I were very close, but I'm sure Jeralt would not want me to speak of it to you."

The bait was slipping away, and Byleth was swimming after it as if she was starving, "I don't think he'd mind..."

"Well..." Rhea was mischievous, all in the form of her lips twisting into a small smile, her eyes darting to the ground, and her fingers brushing through a lock of her hair, "I suppose telling you a small bit wouldn't hurt..." She set her cup down beside her uneaten scone, closing her eyes as if she was digging into her memory for anything of Byleth's mother. She paused, and Byleth's anticipation only grew as she waited for her to begin speaking once more, "She... was very beautiful, very kind and faithful. She and I would drink tea together, just how we are right now. We would speak of Seiros, of life and love... You look so much like her," Rhea opened her eyes, her demeanor changing as the corners filled with the threat of tears, "I feel that I am looking at her right now."

Byleth remained silent. Her lips were slightly ajar as she stared at the woman across from her. She was a plant in the desert, getting her first spring rain and soaking up every possible drop that she could. Jeralt had never once spoke of her mother. He avoided the subject at all costs, so much so that Byleth had simply stopped asking. 

Rhea reached across the table gently, stroking the student's cheeks with her fingers. Byleth closed her eyes and took in the feeling, imagining that this was what having a mother felt like. She devoured every second of her touch. 

She pulled it away, and she folded it into her lap as she fixed her eyes on the student who was still reveling in the interaction, "There has been a rebellion against the church. A lord in the North has risen up to challenge us, and we must punish him for daring to sneer in the face of Seiros."

Byleth broke free. Her eyes shot open, and she looked at Rhea incredulously, "Punish him?"

Rhea was all business, her voice stern, "Prove your loyalty - prove who I _think_ you are. We will stand together in defending the name of Seiros and crush this rebellion." She softened once more, reaching across the surface of the table to take her hand into her own, "All I ask of you, dear Byleth, is to have faith in Seiros, and to carry out Her work. You may find yourself closer to Her than ever before."

Byleth was not particularly religious, nor had she ever felt any reason to pray. She lacked an understanding of why being close to Seiros would even _matter_ to her. Despite this, Rhea looked at her with such confidence. "I... will try."

"Thank you." Upon hearing what she wanted, she pushed her chair back gently, leaving her tea half drank and her scone untouched as she stood, "Perhaps soon we can speak again, I will try to remember any stories of your mother."

The Archbishop had figured out what would keep Byleth coming back. The student only nodded, watching her leave wordlessly and return to the chapel. Her stomach churned with emotion that she could not identify, a mix of excitement, uncertainty, and restlessness. 

For the first time ever, Byleth closed her eyes to say a quick, hesitant prayer to Seiros. In the back of her mind, Sothis only laughed at her bitterly.

* * *

It would be several weeks before the students left to clean up after the rebellion of Lord Lonato, and Byleth was beginning to find a routine in her day to day. 

In the morning, she would force herself out of bed, shuffle her to way class and plop down on the bench besides Dimitri, who always looked just as tired as her. Dedue would bring him coffee, and upon noticing that Byleth was a mess in the morning as well, he would bring an extra cup for her. She drank it with appreciation. She and Dimitri mirrored each other as they lifted the mugs to their mouths, catching each other's eyes, with him chuckling at their twinning. 

Once she had waken up more, she would listen in class, mindlessly drawing doodles on the paper in front of her. She found that she did not fare well taking notes, and instead needed to keep her hands busy as she listened. Jeralt wasn't a bad teacher, and even Sylvain seemed interested in his lectures, yet she found herself paying better attention when she could fidget with something as he taught. 

When class let out for lunch, she would grab a plate from the dining hall and take it outside by the pond, alone. She preferred sitting by the water in silence, rather than trying to hear her classmates over the noise of the dining hall. One practically had to shout just to be heard in the large room. Flayn, Seteth's young sister, would sometimes take a seat besides Byleth and eat candy for her lunch while she mused about her day. 

It was interesting to her how she already had three friends. Annette and she would study in the evenings, and Mercedes would join in and embroider a project of hers while listening to the two girls discuss magical theory. Flayn would bring her chocolates - which Byleth didn't even know she liked - and show her how to fish. Her vast knowledge of what bait to use with specific fish never failed to fascinate Byleth, who had always preferred hunting deer over fishing in the rivers when finding food. 

Byleth had never truly had friends before, and she felt like walking on air because of it.

After the bells chimed and class was resumed, she would have her second cup of coffee with Dimitri, both of them looking much more awake by this time, and fidget through class some more. Every last 2 hours of class, they all would make their way to the Knights hall and train. The Golden Deer and Black Eagles always were scheduled to use the hall before them, so the Blue Lions could stay as long as they wished. Jeralt preferred it that way, as he would push his students as far as they could go. 

He had been going slightly easier on Ashe, as of late, due to his predestined mourning. The boy had been in bad spirits with the word of Lonato, his adoptive father, rebelling. He was smart enough to know that rebellion against the church - unless one had an entire army - would end badly. Once Byleth had found out his connection to Lonato, she instantly felt the pangs of guilt for her conversation with Rhea, and the fact that she knew she would still partake in the mission lingered sourly on her mind. They all would be a part of his suppression, and nobody seemed to be happy about it. 

As the day of the mission drew even closer, the feelings between the Blue Lions grew heavier, the guilt filled glances directed at Ashe more common, and the silence louder than ever. 

* * *

The funeral for Lord Lonato was quiet, somber, and muddy. 

Ashe kept a brave face as he took his adoptive father's lance and pushed it into the soft ground beneath him. At the handle of the lance was a ribbon, it's ends waving lightly in the breeze. Ashe had both hands on the shaft, bowing his head and tightening his grip as he silently said a prayer. Byleth didn't know who it was to; Seiros, or possibly just to the universe itself. 

His hands slid away from the weapon and he stepped back to look at it. "Thank you for all that you've given me. You will never know..." He went silent, finishing his words to himself. The other students watched respectfully, all paying their own respects to the lord who had just fallen.

Beside Byleth, Dimitri mumbled under his breath, "Our countrymen died for a cause they believed in." he glanced at her, "Do we believe in ours?"

She met his eyes, his pale face and high cheekbones, his straight nose and furrowed brows making a frown on his forehead. Her voice was quiet, so as not to disturb Ashe, "I don't know." It felt pathetic to say that, and she scoured her brain to find a better answer. None would come, and her tongue was tied. 

Fortunately, it seemed to satisfy his Highness, who just turned his head again to stare at Ashe's back, "I don't either. Is it the responsibility of a leader to cause violence in order to make peace?"

Next to him, Ingrid whispered back, "Lord Lonato wanted revenge, not peace."

He whispered, "He wanted peace of mind."

"And he was willing to sacrifice the lives of his people in order to get it," she looked tired, yet imploring her friend to understand, "While we caused more violence with our retaliation, we ended the cycle of civilian lives that would be lost for his own goals."

Dimitri looked away and put a hand to his chin, "I suppose that war is a harsh reality for those who seek to restore order."

In front of them, Ashe finally turned around. They straightened up and went quiet once more, separating so he could walk between them and back to the caravan they were to leave in. Byleth watched his back as he left. "Will he be okay?"

Next to her, Felix barked a bitter laugh, almost as if what she said was incredibly stupid, "Nope."

* * *

Sylvain was the one who organized the entire bonfire, even going so far as to purchase 10 bags of marshmallows and scavenge for the sticks that the boys would spear them with. 

"Are you sure about this?" Ashe shifted uncomfortably on his log, "We might get caught."

Sylvain gestured around him at the trees, "We're outside of the monastery, it's fine! Nobody's going to catch us!"

"This fire is sending up a smoke signal of exactly where we are, Sylvain," Dimitri reminded as he watched his marshmallow catch fire and fall goopily off of his stick, "I wouldn't be surprised if we were found very soon and punished for being out past our curfew."

"Don't be a spoil sport." The red haired man reprimanded as he stuck another soft treat onto his stick and put it into the orange blaze. The breeze blew the smoke in his direction, and he laughed, "Man, I'm gonna smell like campfire later. I wonder if the ladies like that."

"They don't." Felix reminded. He was in the back, not sitting on a log, and instead sitting on the ground and leaning his back against a thick tree. He claimed to be cold natured and preferred to not get too hot, so the farther from the fire was the better for him. 

It was only the boys of the Blue Lions, all gathered up from their respective dorms to sneak out of the monastery, past the guards, past the plains and farms outside, and down the road to where the forest started. Sylvain, in an act of concern and support, thought that they needed a 'boys night'. It had been two days since Lonato had been killed, and Ashe had only come out of his dorm room to get food once or twice. 

Dedue pulled his marshmallow out of the fire, looking at it's perfectly browned skin and pulling it off the stick delicately. He never overcooked or burnt even one of them, while Dimitri next to him burnt all of his, and had yet to even eat one. He merely stared into the flames, his legs spread apart and his elbow resting on his knee, cheek in palm, not even noticing a rising heat drawing nearer and nearer up the arm that held his marshmallow stick.

"Uh... your highness?"

"Hm?"

"Sorry, I think I might've given you a dry stick. I really tried to find wet wood that wouldn't burn easily so it wouldn't catch fire."

"It's fine, Sylvain."

"Actually, no, it isn't. Your hand is about to catch fire."

Dimitri looked down at his stick. It certainly was on fire, traveling up the branch like a lit match.

He immediately dropped it, quickly stomping it into the ground to put it out. As he did so, Ashe burst into a carefree laugh, followed by Sylvain, with even a chuckle from Felix nearby. Once the fire was out, the prince looked up at his young friend, who's dimpled, freckled cheeks were pink with laughter. A sense of relief washed over him like a wave, and he began to chuckle as well. 

It was a rare moment of peace and joy for the prince. He reveled in it, the warmth of the fire and the warmth of his friends wrapping around him like a blanket. This night, the darkness would be held back, forgotten about if only for just a moment. 


	5. Time Together

_And when you smile,_

_the whole world_ _stops and stares for a while_

\- Bruno Mars "Just The Way You Are"

* * *

"I've heard through the rumor mill that there's going to be an assassination on the Archbishop..."

"Goodness! That's scary. I hope the Knights are ready to handle that!"

"I'm not sure..." the voice began to fade away as it's speaker walked on. Dimitri kept his eyes on the cobblestone path under his feet, staying very still and holding his breath. He was trying to stay as quiet as he could, eavesdropping on the conversation happening on the other side of the bushes. 

The gardens were particularly empty on this day. It was one of the hotter days of the year so far. It had been raining so much that the sun battled it's way through the clouds, demanding it be respected. It beat down on the students, who sat in the shade and fanned themselves. Dimitri was out of class and making his way to the knight's hall for some extra training when a conversation of interest had piqued his ears. 

He kept quiet and listened more, though the two anonymous girls were too far away to be heard any longer. He sighed and began on his way, putting a hand to his chin out of force of habit as he thought. Catherine had been acting odd after the battle with Lonato. She had been reading a scrap of paper that she had pulled off of his corpse, studying it intently, and stuffing it back into a hidden pocket on her armor when anyone approached. Her brows had settled into a constant frown the entire way back, and she made her way straight to the chapel to council with the Archbishop. 

The rumor mill was not one of Dimitri's preferred methods of getting information. He wasn't much of a gossip himself, he found it distasteful. Yet, the mill proved itself useful in times like these. Rumors of an assassination on the Archbishop, most likely being kept secret to avoid causing panic among the students. 

It wasn't the first he was hearing of this rumor and it's many versions. He had his theories, though, about the truthfulness of it all. It would be absolutely mad to attack the Archbishop, and the Western church _knew_ that. They had to be aiming for something else. 

He took a turn into the covered walkway that led to the hall. The columns were tall, holding up the ceiling that provided much needed shade for small groups of students. A few girls fanned themselves with light books, faces shining with the dew of humidity. Dimitri himself felt a little sticky in this weather. 

Ahead of him, near the doors of the hall, were Mercedes and Byleth. The girls leaned on their sides, shoulders against the wall as they spoke in low voices. Mercedes had her usual scarf off and had tied it around her waist instead. Byleth had pulled her choppy hair into a short ponytail sticking out from the back of her head, it was tied with a pink ribbon. Her bangs framed her face, and her hand went up to her forehead to push them back and fan herself for a moment. 

Dimitri approached them, and the two girls quieted down, looking at him in surprise. He began, "Don't tell me you two are caught up in the gossip as well."

Mercedes clenched her fists, excited now, "How couldn't we be? The Archbishop is in danger! We need to help her!"

Byleth shook her head, "I don't think she's in danger. It's just a distraction."

He was surprised to find that he wasn't alone in his theory. Of course it would be Byleth who would guess the same thing. She was one of the most cunning in his class. He leveled her with an attentive stare, "I was thinking the exact thing. I believe there may be something else they're after, if only we knew what."

The two of them looked at Mercedes, who straightened up, her eyes widening at their stares. She was the most well-traveled and informed about the monastery, oftentimes getting invited into areas that civilians wouldn't usually be allowed into. She thought for a moment, twirling a blonde curl and humming. "I suppose there are quite a few things they could be after. The library has some very rare books, and there's a supply of ancient weapons that might be of interest... The only other thing might be the Holy Mausoleum. The Rite of Rebirth is coming up soon as well."

"What could even be in there?" Byleth questioned. 

"I'm not sure, I've never been." She sighed in defeat, "They say it's where the body of Saint Seiros lay, but truthfully it's most likely just dust and symbolism." She clasped her hands together, "It's still quite exciting, though!"

Dimitri crossed his arms in thought, "The Goddess's Rite of Rebirth is quite an important event, is it not? I'd think whoever our enemy is would target such a thing."

"It's a lead, at least," Byleth nodded and straightened her posture, "we should go tell the Archbishop."

She began to step away, with Dimitri falling in line with her step. Mercedes waved a delicate hand at her classmates and smiled, "You two go ahead, I'll stay in the shade for now. I'll see you at our study group tonight, Byleth."

She sent her a small wave, and matched her pace with Dimitri's to take her leave with him. They began their trek through the gardens and academy courtyard toward the chapel in a comfortable silence. The sound of other students laughing and talking throughout the area filled the air between them. The sun was beating down, the air wet and heavy, and the flowers enjoying the late spring showers. Summer was obviously on it's way. 

Dimitri was the first to speak up, polite as always, "We haven't gotten much of a chance to speak with each other since you joined our class."

She was surprised he even thought of her in the first place. "I suppose so. Life here is very busy, but also very slow. And there's so many people, it's easy to not talk to someone for a while."

He nodded, "I agree. I try to not let that happen, though, especially with my own classmates." 

The two had spoken during missions, or small snippets during travel or after class, yet nothing more than a short conversation, and always with other people involved. This was the first time the two were without other classmates around, walking together on their way to spout theories to the Archbishop. Byleth, actually, had just left the Archbishop's company, having had yet another little tea party with her, being fed tiny drops of information about her mother. Thus, her spirits and motivation were especially high this evening, and there even seemed to be a light spring in her step. 

Dimitri noticed her good nature, making it more comfortable for him to make conversation. "How are you adjusting to life here?"

"Oh, it's good," her eyes were clear, and her face pleasant, "I'm not very good at socializing, but I think I'm getting better."

"I have to admit," he made a breathy snicker, a short 'heh' at himself for his own feelings, "you've surprised me a few times."

She looked at him, eyebrows raised, "Have I?"

"I just had thought that you were cold, unfeeling about battle or other people," he sent her an apologetic smile as they walked across the bridge to the chapel gates, "I see that I'm wrong, and that you are simply a normal person."

It was a weird mix of irritation and appreciation that churned in her mind. She bit her lip in thought and looked straight ahead at the guards lifting the large iron gate up for their arrival. It made the loudest noise of metal across stone, and she always felt embarrassed for it's loudness. "Well, thank you for thinking I'm normal. You're not the first person to make that assumption about me."

"I apologize for you having to endure that." He genuinely sounded sad for her. 

She looked back at him now and cocked her head, more uneven hair locks falling out of her ponytail and framing her cheeks. The two of them had stopped in front of the gate as it slowly rose up with the efforts of the knights pulling it's levers nearby. Dimitri studied her face, her nose that upturned just slightly, her almond shaped eyes framed by dark lashes, soft features and round cheeks flushed with the heat of the sun overhead. She studied him right back, eventually letting her expression of curiosity fade back into one of blankness, as if she was checking herself, and turned away from him. "I'd like to be normal."

There was a pause. Dimitri took his eyes off her face and looked at the stones under his boots. The words in his mind nearly made their to his tongue, ready to be said. It was a feeling he shared, a sentiment he could understand. There was never any use speaking hypothetically, he thought, reality is _not_ hypothetical and dreaming about something that might not even happen was a waste of time. Yet, when he was low, late at night when he couldn't sleep, he would ponder on what his life would've been like if he was just _normal._

The guard nearby cleared his throat expectantly, waving his hand, "Come on kids, don't just stand there all day! My arms are getting tired!"  
  


Realizing that they were just standing there in front of the open gate, the two rushed forward into the chapel, apologizing profusely as they hurried their steps and avoided the eyes of the guard. Byleth was internally cursing herself for her show of vulnerability, while Dimitri was simply wondering what on Fodlan could be on her mind. 

They made their way up the stairs to the offices and audience chamber. Rhea waited in front of the throne, reading a few papers and then handing them back to a monk next to her. As the teenagers entered, she turned her attention to them and broke out into a serene smile. "Byleth! How good to see you again!"

_Again_? Dimitri slowed his pace as they approached and looked curiously at his classmate. Byleth bowed her head to the Archbishop, who opened her arms and smiled like heaven. The girl stepped into her embrace, and they shared a short, but tender hug. Nearby, Seteth peaked his head out of his office, made a noise of disgust, and went back to his work. 

Byleth stepped away, her cheeks red as she cleared her throat, "We have a theory about the assassination."

"Oh," Rhea darkened slightly, "I suppose keeping it a secret was too much for the monks to handle."

Dimitri knew of her rage, and how it could spread like a wildfire. He put up a hand, "I implore you to allow the Blue Lions to help. We think that the assassins might be targeting the Rite of Rebirth, and using the threat of an assassination to distract the Knights."

"We have thought the same thing," she was all business, nodding her head and putting her hands behind her back, "If you are so eager to help, then I will allow your class to protect the Holy Mausoleum from any threats. But... we do not know what will happen, and I cannot promise that it will even be necessary."

Dimitri understood that, yet the prospect of serving justice to anyone who might endanger the lives of others was too tempting for him. It was enough to satisfy the two students. "Thank you," Byleth said, folding her hands together in front of her, "We're just happy to help."

Rhea's business-like demeanor melted away. Her lips dissolved into a smile and she shined it upon the two of them, "You both have so much faith. Now go, enjoy the rest of your evening, and do not worry about anything besides your exams until the time for your mission arrives."

Dimitri sent her a polite smile in return, yet felt unnerved on the inside. He and Byleth turned away to make their way out of the chamber and down the stairs. He thought upon her words, what was meant to be a compliment had tasted so bitter. He had very _little_ faith, in fact, his faith was basically nonexistent. In his view, if Seiros answered prayers, then his family would not be dead right now. 

The stairway was well lit, but at the bottom of it, he could barely make out someone standing there, waiting for him. They were only waiting for _him_ , and took no note of Byleth. In fact, she walked right beside him without so much of a glance. Dimitri kept his eyes straight ahead, and exhaled in frustration as he passed by the bloodied, glaring man. As the two of them walked out of the chapel, the specter followed silently. 

"Are you okay?" Byleth looked at him with concern.

He was doing a splendid job of ignoring the late King Lambert's piercing gaze. He sent Byleth a reassuring smile, "I'm fine, thank you. I was simply thinking about the certification exams coming up."

She nodded and turned her gaze ahead. Lambert continued to stare, and Dimitri continued to ignore him.

The two of them had a pleasant, harmless conversation about the exams coming up. Everybody in class had a set date and time that they would be taking their exams and showing Jeralt what path they were ready to take in battle. Byleth's was coming up soon, and she was studying swordplay and agility the most. Dimitri, who excelled with the lance, had his exam scheduled to be taken the day after hers. 

As they entered the garden area, an excited cry that had sprung from seemingly nowhere pierced Byleth's ears. She nearly jumped, and put her hand on the dagger attached to her thigh, hidden under the skirt of her uniform. She spun around to see a grubby child running towards her and Dimitri with open arms. The prince didn't seem to be startled. He leaned down into a squat to grab the child's hands as he ran up to him. 

"Prince Dimitri!" He cried, "You promised to teach me how to use a sword today!"

Dimitri's eyes went wide, and he pressed his lips together. He looked at the ground as if a certain blade of grass was incredibly interesting. "Oh, yes, well... I forgot."

The child ripped his hands from the prince's and stomped his foot. "You promised!"

"Please forgive me," he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, making a few blond locks stick straight out, "I'll make my way over there this very minute."

The child seemed satisfied, and stepped back from the target of his disappointment to look at Byleth, who stood there awkwardly behind Dimitri. "Are you his girlfriend?"

She knew she should probably be embarrassed at that, but she found herself still taking in the fact that Dimitri knew this child in the first place. She merely shook her head, "No."

Dimitri stood up and sent her a look of apology. "No, she's not. But..." an idea seemed to hit him over the head, and he put a hand to his chin, "Byleth, would you be interested in helping me teach the orphans? You're much better with a sword than I am, and not many of them are interested in the lance."

There was something not commonly known among the public: Byleth actually greatly enjoyed the company of children. They told the truth about what they thought of others, and hardly ever found her to be weird or unnerving. They were still learning their own social skills, and she felt more at their level when it came to human interaction. She looked down at the orphan, who grinned up at her with several missing baby teeth. She reached out a hand to him, softly, so he wouldn't flinch, and gave him a motherly pat on the head, in the exact way that Rhea would pat hers. "I would love to."

He found himself surprised at her response. She seemed like the type to avoid children at all costs, yet she was surprising him again. He thought that he should begin expecting her to do so, and to try to predict the opposite of everything he might assume. 

Behind him, Lambert was gone for a moment, and Dimitri was distracted enough by their short walk to the orphanage to not dwell on the appearance of his bloody, beheaded father. The thought was erased from his mind as he entered the area where the orphans always played, the grass worn down to dirt.

Byleth was at his side, greeting all of the orphans of different ages and learning their names. Dimitri was attempting to commit every one of their names to memory, though there were so many of them that it became difficult. With himself being an orphan, every time that he visited the children he was faced with what life might have become for him if he hadn't of been the prince. 

She grabbed a wooden sword from the nearby toy chest, and felt it's weight with both hands. She examined it, then held it up in the air, "I hear you all might want to learn the sword!"

The kids cheered, running around to find their own swords or sticks that they could use. Dimitri was entirely useless, now. He watched Byleth line them all up in front of her. The kids stood at rapt attention to their new teacher. In a funny voice, she slapped her wooden sword against her palm, "Men, _soldiers_ , today I'll be teaching you how to defend yourself against even the largest enemy!"

Cheers rippled through the line of children, with the waving of misshapen sticks and toy swords in the air at her decree. One child broke from the line to run towards Dimitri, "Dima! You need to learn the sword too!"

Was he really that bad? He complied, letting the little girl lead him to the line to stand next to her. Byleth looked at him with a fakely serious face, saluting him, "Soldier."

"Commander." He returned with the same serious playfulness

Byleth was a good teacher, after all, and much more skilled with the sword than him. He watched as she taught the children basic footwork, and how to thrust their weapon straight. She oversaw them like a true commander, walking among them training in their neat and orderly lines with her hands behind her back. She would give commendation at the right time, and critiques to the ones who needed them. 

Once it had ended, Dimitri even was sore. He had just a stick that a child had found for him, yet the movements she had been teaching were hard on the body. The lance tended to work a different set of muscles, he realized. He should train with other weapons more often for him to achieve the goals he needed. 

It grew dimmer and dimmer, the night coming in like a thief to steal away the blue sky. The sun had relented finally, and Dimitri could stop sweating. A few of the older orphans and a priestess began to usher the children back inside for a late dinner, leaving a pile of sticks and toys for them to clean up later. Byleth replaced her own wooden sword in it's place.

"Thank you for your help," he approached her as she organized the toys, "Hopefully that will satisfy them for a while."

Byleth did not reply with words. Instead, she stood up from her squat and looked at him, _smiling_.

Smiling.

Pink, full lips tilted up, with cheeks painted the sweetest shade of red.

A serene, pleasant, genuine, satisfied, dazzling, amazing, beautiful, breath taking, _real smile._

It felt as if his heart did a belly flop.

He stared at her. It was exactly 3 seconds that it lasted, and she went right back down to her organizing. She said nothing, and he said nothing. He simply stared down at her, squatting in the dirt and trying to pick up all of the toys to go put them away in the bins. She had them in her arms, and stood up to carry them off. His eyes followed her. 

Usually, Dimitri would never be struck by such a sight, not with anyone else - besides maybe Dedue. Byleth never smiled, and it was something Dimitri noticed from the first hours of meeting her. Even on an occasion where it would be appropriate, her lips never turned up. She certainly didn't walk around looking angry all the time, but she had yet to smile. 

She walked back to him, dusting off her hands, "What's wrong? You're just standing there."

He decided to tell the truth. He cleared his throat and readied himself, "I just... Well, I don't think I've ever seen you smile like that."

Her eyes widened, "Like what?" She was afraid she had made an odd expression, something unnatural. She had not even realized that she had smiled. 

"It was... simply a smile." He found it difficult to express. The smile was tired, but satisfied. It was something warm, a feeling that reminded him of hot chocolate on a cold day. "It was mesmerizing. Would you do it again?"

She couldn't tell if he was making fun of her or not. It didn't seem like that would be in Dimitri's manner, yet she didn't know him very well either. He could've been poking fun at the unnaturalness of her face, and she suddenly felt very self conscious. "Please don't make fun of me."

"I'm not making fun of you," he insisted, "but I apologize if I made you uncomfortable. I had a lot of fun tonight, and it brought me joy to see you happy."

After a second of thought, she decided to believe him. Her response was a quiet, "Thank you..."

Dimitri had a feeling that Sylvain would find out about this, and make fun of him later for it, yet he went through with his impulsiveness without another thought. "As a thank you for your help with teaching the children, I would like to take you to dinner."

She instantly thought of the marketplace stand that sold delicious meats. "Take me to dinner?"

"There are not many choices," he thought for a minute. Food was not his forte, as he couldn't even taste what he ate, and texture never really bothered him, but Ingrid would sometimes drag him to somewhere different than the dining hall because she didn't want to be seen stuffing her face by herself. He went on, "There's the inn outside of the monastery, Ingrid says she makes good potatoes. Of course, there's the dining hall, and then there's the stalls at the market-"

"The stalls at the market." Her answer was immediate. 

He looked at her curiously, "Are you sure? It's not exactly fine dini-"

She had grabbed his wrist, pulling him along, "Let's go."

* * *

"Are you sure they'll have me?"

"Yes, they love you. Also, you come bearing gifts."

Dimitri looked down at his arms full of sweets. He held an entire cake, with bags of candies piled on top of it. Byleth held a basket of summer sausages that she had bought from the stall they just ate at. She bought the desserts as well, despite Dimitri's insistence that he pay for them. Now, the two of them stood in front of the door to Annette's room, waiting for her to answer. 

Another knock from Byleth, and after a second of waiting, the door finally cracked open. 

"Password?"

The voice was muffled, like a lady trying to lower it and disguise herself and failing terribly. Dimitri immediately recognized it as Annette. 

Byleth hummed for a minute, thinking, clutching her basket of meats, "I think... it might be... Oh, yes! That's right. Purple plum pie perfumed with pickled parsnips."

A few muffled snickers behind the door, and one girl clearing her throat. There was laughter in her voice as she swung the door open wide, "I love hearing you say that." Annette laughed, sloshing the brown liquid in her drink around as she did so. Behind her Mercedes was mid-sip of whatever they were drinking when she caught sight of Dimitri, and immediately hid her glass behind a book. Ingrid had already stuffed hers behind her chair with wide eyes.

Annette froze when she noticed the prince. "Y-Your highness!" She hid the drink behind her back, spilling it in the process and squealing for the liquid that now covered her side and back. "It's not what it looks like!"

Dimitri was no stranger to this. He and the other boys would oftentimes drink wine in their dorm rooms on particularly late nights studying, usually ending with one of them dragging Sylvain back to his dorm as he cried and sobbed about a girl. 

"It's fine, Annette." His arms were still full, "Don't feel like you have to hide anything."

"We don't usually drink," Byleth admitted, "but it's one of those nights."

The red haired mage sighed in relief and removed the glass from behind her back, pouting at it's emptiness. "Well, come in."

Dimitri and Byleth stepped in with their respective armfuls of goodies. Ingrid was the first to jump up and grab Byleth's basket of cured meats and sausages, ripping the blanket covered the top off and digging in. Annette gently took the cake and candies from his arms and placed it on a nearby table. "I didn't know you were coming, your highness."

"Annette, you know you can call me Dimitri."

"It's just weird sometimes, ya know?" 

Mercedes got another small glass and poured something from a large bottle into it. Dimitri smelled nothing, though he assumed it had a stench according to how her nose scrunched up. "This isn't my first choice, but Ingrid got it." It was odd to hear her soft voice even _talking_ about alcohol. He could see that she had barely drank anything out of her own glass. She handed one to Dimitri. 

Byleth retrieved her own, and took her seat on Annette's bed. All the girls watched him, despite both Ingrid and Mercedes knowing he couldn't taste a thing. Out of politeness, he took a sip, and was struck immediately with a tasteless burn on his tongue and throat. He coughed, "Is this whiskey?"

Ingrid sat back in her seat, crossing her leg over her knee, "Only the finest for the gentleman's club."

He coughed again, "Gentleman's club?"

His inquiry was met with questioning, curious stares directed at Byleth. Next to her, Annette sat on the bed and raised her eyebrows, "Should we?"

Byleth, again, looked playfully serious. It was a side of her that he'd never seen, and one she wore well. She stroked her chin, and hmmed and hawwed in fake thought. Her eyes closed and she sighed, putting her hand in her lap and drumming her fingers on her thighs. "I... will allow it."

"Gentleman's club, hoo haw!" 

They all - besides Mercedes - stomped one foot on the floor, and said the words as in unison as they possibly could. Mercedes, afterwards, simply giggled, "I thought we said we'd stop doing that since it's unlady-like?"

"It's for the initiation!" Annette defended, sloshing her new glass of whiskey around and spilling more on her legs. She swore and dabbed at it with a rag. 

Dimitri, feeling as if he was finally beginning to understand exactly what was happening there, took his seat in an empty chair besides the food. "So, what do we do in the Gentleman's club?" It was almost funny, and almost inspirational. He supposed that this was an example of what really should happen when one goes to school. Secret clubs, friendships made over alcohol that they shouldn't be having. He was almost tempted to put the idea in Sylvain's head, though he knew his friend would take it too far eventually. It was most likely best to keep it with the girls where it would stay relatively good natured. 

"We study," Byleth answered, "Mercedes embroiders, Ingrid eats. We're actually very boring."

"Hey, we went hunting once!" Ingrid said, her mouth full of sausage, "We caught a bird and roasted it over a fire." 

"It wasn't even edible, Annie overcooked it." Mercedes giggled.

"Don't talk about that! I said I'm sorry!"

Byleth put her hand up, "Stop bickering, please. We need to let Dimitri do his official introduction."

The girls went quiet, eyes staring at him in anticipation. He wasn't quite prepared to do an introduction, and he was never very good at speeches. Behind the girls, the image of Glenn threatened to appear, bloody and torn apart. In his mind, a familiar voice whispered, _"You can make friends when you've atoned for your life."_

He wavered. He paused. He forced himself to focus on the situation at hand. Lambert poked and needled in the back of his mind, _"What do you think you're doing?"_

He had no idea. But, it was not the time to let himself fall into the familiar trap. 

He gulped hard, then took a big shot of his whiskey, and stood with all the grace he could muster in his princely self. The girls watched him expectantly as he bowed, and the voices and the image of Glenn faded away. 

"I am honored to be a part of your wild adventures."


	6. The Sword of The Creator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> corona virus isolation = updating three chapters in one day

_Reason will not decide at last: the sword will decide._

_-_ Robinson Jeffers "Contemplation Of The Sword"

* * *

What an honor it should've been to stand in the Holy Mausoleum. Rhea had _told_ Byleth it was an honor, at least. With as many times as she had sneezed, Byleth had trouble believing her. 

"Does nobody dust down here?" Sylvain questioned, wiping dust off his hands and onto his black pants, leaving a few gray streaks. 

Mercedes shook her head from her post nearby, "No, nobody can enter the Holy Mausoleum except on this day."

"Well, maybe they should hire a 'holy housekeeper'." He laughed at himself as loudly as he could, only stopped a second later by Felix hitting him over the head and telling him to be quiet. Once Sylvain's complaining died down, his echo reverberated throughout the empty chamber. 

"Creepy." Jeralt's statement earned a few nods in agreement from his students. Next to him, Byleth kept a hand clutched onto the iron sword at her hip. The class had taken their stations Mausoleum, and were waiting for any kind of disturbance. It felt almost like Rhea had just given them this job to keep them busy, while the Golden Deer were guarding the Archbishop herself, and the Black Eagles watched over the treasury. The Blue Lions had been resigned to a dusty crypt. 

It was dark, only dimly lit by the torches dancing on the walls. Mercedes and Annette kept little balls of light made from magic in their hands to help lighten up the room, yet it only did so much. While Byleth wasn't afraid of spiders, she could only imagine how many had made their homes in this room. 

Jeralt was the first to walk slowly among the large stone pillars. He ran a hand over it's surface, making a print of 4 fingers running across it. He dusted his hand off onto his chest, then directed his attention to the class, "Do you guys feel like we're being watched?"

They were all quiet in response, waiting for someone else to take the lead. 

Silence spread through the chamber, besides the breathing of the students and the breeze outside. Annette was the first to pipe up, "Like... by a perverted guy?"

Jeralt sighed, "No, kid. I mean... I don't know." He looked around, "Just be on your guard. Who knows what these shadows hold."

Spiders, thought Byleth. In the back of her mind, Sothis snickered. " _Very big, very scary spiders."_ With fangs, perhaps. 

The hesitant class advanced further into the tomb. Dimitri had his lance out already, his right hand holding it taller than him and ready to strike if need be. Jeralt led the charge in front of him, holding a torch to lighten the darkness with it's golden glow. The flame was a life line, a security blanket that wrapped the students and kept them assured. 

Until it had gone out. 

It was like magic, the flame vanishing as if it was a match somebody had blown on. Jeralt cursed, and several of the girls gasped. Felix grabbed Annette's arm, who had cried out in fear. Felix spoke up, "Everybody calm down. It's not like we can't see."

It was true, yet tensions were high. There were still the torches on the walls and the mages small balls of light, and the reminder helped the other students to calm down and breath sighs of relief.

"Oooh, it's just mood lighting. Romantic."

Dimitri sent him a look, "Not the time, Sylvain."

"Sorry, Highness."

Annette hesitantly put her hand on Felix's, earning his attention. She gently pushed his hand off her arm, and realizing he was still holding it in an attempt to soothe her, he whipped it away as if she had an infectious disease. The swordsman turned away from her and cleared his throat. Sylvain snorted, and Ingrid only shook her head at the sight. 

"Wonder what that could've been." Jeralt mused. The second his words ended, almost like a jinx, every other torch in the room had gone out. Startled, the girls dropped their focus and let their magic lights go out as well. It was a blanket of complete, cold, unknowing darkness. This time, it was Annette who gripped onto Felix, and Sylvain, who also gripped onto Felix, which was a much less pleasant experience for him.

"Nobody panic!" Dimitri announced, taking the lead, "That will get us nowhere. We'll just make our way to the entrance following the natural sunlight through the door."

Byleth tried to find the aforementioned natural sunlight, looking all around for it. Finally, at the very back of the room, there was a sliver of light peaking through the large, stone entrance door. "I found it." She reached out, feeling for someone in the darkness, and grabbing the first hand she felt, "Grab someone and follow me."

It was only a few steps later that the lights flickered on again, all at the same time. There was no lighting of the wall torches one by one, simply them all breathing back to life and providing a dim light once more. 

Bathed in the golden lights were soldiers. Mages, swordsmen, armored knights, all dressed in grey robes. In the middle of the room was a horse black as night, with a man who looked like death himself sitting upon it. His armor was wicked, sharp and reflective of the small amount of light around him. On his face was a mask of that of a skull, which sent a rare shiver of fear down Byleth's spine. 

She squeezed whoever's hand she was holding. Dimitri squeezed back, and the two let go of each other to face the new enemies that had appeared from the shadows. 

Jeralt tapped the head of his lance on the ground nonchalantly, looking at the intruders with disgust, "You're not supposed to be here."

The man at the head of the room was dressed in long, grey robes, with a mask over his head. He began a spell that glowed brightly in the dimness with ancient letters and symbols floating around his hand. The spell landed on the coffin that was said to house Seiros's remains. He turned to the black knight not far in front of him, "Death Knight, take care of these fools!"

His voice was gravelly, disguised by his helmet, "I do not take orders from you."

If he took orders at all, thought Byleth. She couldn't imagine a being like that being commanded by anything other than his own desires. She gulped, and unsheathed her sword to prepare for battle. 

Jeralt was already in his natural state, barking orders to his students and telling them where to go. Dimitri and Dedue always took to the front, with Felix and Annette behind them. Byleth, due to her speed and sharp eyes, was ordered to be off to the side in a defensive position, providing support for the other students in trouble. Ashe tended to stay behind her, using his long distance weapon to his advantage. 

They went to the left, focusing their attention on the soldiers at hand rather than directly facing the Death Knight. Mages across the room began to make their way over to them with spells heating up in energy. Soldiers drew their swords and made a run at their small group, looking very intimidating as they approached through the dim. Mercedes hung to the back of the formation, while Sylvain guarded her against any incoming attacks. She retreated even further, and Ashe and Sylvain held the line of attackers back. 

"Ashe, aim for the mages over there," Byleth commanded. He nodded and turned his attention to them, drawing back his bow with precision. She was in a state that was entirely familiar to her, a focused and prepared side of herself where she didn't have to worry about interacting, tuning out loud crowds, or how she smiled. She could simply be empty for the entirety of the battle, knowing her goal and working towards it. 

The class worked their way through the throng of enemies. They seemed dazed, but fought well. Mercedes had her work cut out for her as she cast heals left and right. Eventually, the class made their way to the front of the room where the leader was. The Death Knight had not moved from his spot. He looked as bored as one could in full armor. 

It was odd, yet there seemed to be no reason to be nervous. It was almost as if he was waiting to be challenged by someone. He would be disappointed, though, as they had made a very sharp arch in the _opposite_ direction of him, not daring to even go near. 

"By," Jeralt used the nickname only reserved for hectic situations, "there are reinforcements coming. Go take care of that mage, won't ya?"

She would. She looked at him with confidence, earning a nod in return as he turned around to lead the group around the room. In front of her, on the top of the stone steps leading to the casket, the mage frantically glanced over his shoulder. 

She took her first step up, going slow. He sent her another frantic look.

The next step was slow. He was swearing and banging his hands on the lid of the coffin now.

She yelled with a battle cry, running the rest of the way up and swinging her sword at him. 

He turned around just in time to block her with a magical shield. Her sword halted on the shining wall of light, and she glared at him through it's colorful array. Behind him, the spell on the top of the coffin faded, and he sent it a triumphant look. "You're too late! The seal is open!" He pushed against the shield, knocking Byleth back and making her trip over one of the steps. Her ankle twisted and she grimaced in pain as she landed on the hard, stone ground. Fortunately, she had not hit her head, and only her legs and bottom would be bruised. 

The mage leaned into the deep casket, then popped back up as if surprised about something. She wondered what he could've found, most likely a disgusting, rotting, dead body, or perhaps a large spider with fangs. She forced herself to stand up as he leaned in again and pulled something out.

"A sword?" He was incredulous. 

Byleth forced herself to run, though a pain shot from her ankle and up her leg. She swiped at his hand, cutting it clean off. She tried to not look or listen to his wail of pain, and instead made a wild grab for the sword that he had dropped. She picked it up, noticing immediately it's lightness and perfect balance. The yellowed bone it seemed to be made of was sharper than a regular sword, and she already felt attached to it. She dropped her iron blade, letting it clang loudly down the steps and settle on the ground. She held her new sword in her dominant hand, and readied herself to strike again. 

The mage, through his pain, began to conjure up a spell from his remaining hand. He cast it with a yell of might, and she was nearly blinded by it's fury as it approached her through the air. Without thought, she slashed at it, and the spell dissipated, destroying nothing. Behind her, the Death Knight watched with interest. 

She ran at the mage again, making contact with another magic shield. She pushed, and pushed, and the sword began to cut through it like butter. He was on the ground, slashed clean through in just a second.

Her final position ended with her leaning over his body, reminding herself to breathe in and out. Just breathe again, and she could come back down to Fodlan, out of the head space she occupied during battle. She stood up straight with relief. The battle was over, and she could be Byleth again.

Behind her, Jeralt approached her with wide eyes. "What the hell is that?"

She looked at him over her shoulder, noticing that the Death Knight had disappeared, and the rest of the class were gathering themselves to join Byleth in front of the coffin. 

"This?" she held the mangled, odd sword up at him.

He flinched, "Yeah, that."

"Oh..." she wiped the blood off the side of the blade and onto the edge of the coffin lid, earning a very shocked gasp from Mercedes with her sacrilege, "A sword."

Felix was intrigued, "Can you keep it?"

"I might ask."

* * *

She _could_ keep it.

But she didn't want to carry it around. 

Jeralt had caught her walking to the library with her hip bare of a weapon, her hair pulled into a ponytail, and a wrapping around her ankle. He put his flask away into his jacket and stood up from his bench to greet her as she walked by. "Kid."

She stopped, looking up from the paper she had in her hands that had engrossed her so much that she wouldn't even notice her father just a foot away. "Oh, hey."

"'Oh, hey' gods, you're out of it today."

She supposed she was. She had recently taken on the responsibility of helping the counselor go through letters from students. It was something to do at night when she couldn't sleep. To stay up late and write heartfelt words of advice was more productive than staring at the ceiling for hours. 

She folded up the note asking for advice on how to deal with women only wanting a man for their crest - Sylvain, she assumed - and stuck it into the pocket of her uniform. "Sorry."

"It's fine." He offered her his arm, almost awkwardly. He was getting better with human touch as well, "I'll walk you to wherever you're going."

There were times when Jeralt would choose to not help his daughter with something, all for the purpose of teaching her to be independent and to deal with her issues on her own. Then, there were the moments where he caved and offered her his help, and this seemed to be one of them. Byleth would never refuse this opportunity, especially when her ankle still hurt so much. 

The two began walking, and she leaned on him for support to take weight off her leg. It was a comfortable silence, quiet and familiar, and she appreciated it more than she was able to express outwardly. 

Her father smelled like spice and alcohol. She could only assume that he had been into the whiskey he had confiscated from her last week, keeping it under his desk in the classroom. He threatened to tell Seteth, yet never did, as that would mean he would lose his privileges to it as well. She took in the scent. It was a rare moment of affection, but one that she was growing more comfortable with. Her friends were affectionate people, and one had no choice but to become accustomed to human touch when around them. She didn't know how Jeralt would respond, yet she wouldn't let her hesitance stop her. Gingerly, she laid her head on his arm as they walked slowly.

And then he had to go and ruin the peace they shared.

"Why aren't you wearing the sword?" He questioned.

She lifted her head off his arm and furrowed her brows. Her lips turned into a small frown, "It intimidates people."

He sighed, something he had been doing a lot more lately, "You know... I'm not one for all that religious mumbo-jumbo... but it _is_ sort of an honor to be chosen by that weird thing."

She knew he was right. He had logic over emotion in this situation, yet despite his wisdom, she refused to outwardly agree with him. It had taken an entire month for the other students to stop looking at her like she was a wild animal, for the whispers of 'Ashen Demon' to leave their lips. She _almost_ felt as if she belonged. She had friends, she had the gentleman's club, and while she knew that they wouldn't care if she wore the sword or not, it still drew unwanted attention.

So, in her newfound rebellion, silence became her chosen response. 

He took note of her lack of words, which spoke more loudly of her feelings than anything else she could say. His sigh was tired and old, "I know you're young and ruled by emotion-"

"I am not."

"And you think you know everything right now. But one day you'll wear that sword, and you'll wear it proudly."

She frowned, "Is that a command?"

"No, it's a prediction." He broke away from her grip, leaving her to wobble on one foot and look at him incredulously, "Walk the rest of the way yourself, don't be a pussy."

* * *

Dimitri sat in the empty classroom, head in his hands as he stared down at the paper on the desk. The words, every time he looked at them, made his stomach churn. 

Miklan would be sentenced to death, and by his class no less. 

_"Oh, now you're killing my childhood friend."_ Glenn said angrily.

Dimitri spoke out loud, "I didn't kill you."

Glenn didn't respond. It was only silence, which stabbed the prince more than words ever could. Words, he was used to, but when the ghosts let him rot in his own blizzard of thoughts, the storm could only worsen from there. 

Other times, he craved silence, begging for it even, but it was a peaceful silence that he wished for, something _without_ the dead in the back of his mind. He knew the day would come, and he just had to get through this time in his life before it ever could. 

Sighing, he focused his attention back onto the paper. It was a letter from Rhea, directed to him and Jeralt. She wanted the Blue Lions to take care of Miklan, who had stolen the Lance of Ruin from his home and was using it to terrorize villagers in the area. Dimitri knew that this needed to be taken care of, though he wondered why his group had yet again been picked to kill one of their own family members. It was almost as if the church was trying to test their limits, taking advantage of the alliance between the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus and themselves. Or perhaps it was a form of bullying. His mind ran with the bitter thoughts as he stared at the wall in front of him. 

Miklan had never been a kind man, yet he had been a very familiar piece in Dimitri's life growing up. He could remember when Sylvain would argue with Dimitri over how he thought Miklan was better than Glenn, how Miklan deserved to win that duel, how Miklan would become a knight before Glenn could. He had loved his brother so much as a child, looking up to him as someone to be like, someone brave and confident. Crestless. It was all Sylvain had ever wanted. 

And now he had to assist in killing him. 

As much as the situation had changed, it would still be difficult. Things were different now. Dimitri knew that Sylvain carried no love for Miklan any longer, but he couldn't imagine his empathetic, loyal friend not being entirely unfeeling over the matter. With a heavy heart, he stood up from his bench, holding the paper in his hands as he prepared himself. On the table in front of him, the pencil cup fell over once more, and Dimitri made a noise of annoyance as he leaned down to gather the pencils back into it.

His hand brushed against something harder, something made of aluminum and small. He leaned in closer to see what he had found. A small hair clip was pinched between his fingers, looking delicate as he snapped the contraption back and forth. He could remember Byleth wearing it to push her bangs back just the other day, and losing it upon fidgeting and playing with it too much. He dropped it into his pocket with the intent to return it on his way to Sylvain's dorm. 

The prince left the classroom, stepping out into the humid air of the night. Summer was approaching rapidly, and he feared that he would never get used to heat of the south. He was much more acclimated to the chilled kisses of winter air on his skin. 

Byleth's dorm was just around the corner, the first door on the Southern side of the building. He passed by the training grounds and the sauna, making his way to the long wooden deck that lined against the dorm rooms. Sitting on the edge, besides the steps, was Byleth herself. She was hunched over a book with a piece of paper on it, her pencil moving wildly against the parchment. Her lips moved wordlessly in thought. 

He approached her, pulling the hair pin out of his pocket and holding it out to her. She looked up, blinking, looking at his hand, and then back up to him. "Yes?"

"Is this yours?"

She squinted, then nodded slowly and took it from his fingers, "Yes. Thank you. Where... did you find this?"

"In our pencil cup." He folded his letter from Rhea into a square and put it into the front pocket of his black uniform jacket. She watched him, biting her lip and tapping her pencil eraser onto her paper. "I knocked it down again."

That earned him a small, slightly mischievous smile.

He felt like he had been rewarded. 

His eyes found their way to her lips, "How's your ankle?"

"Hurts." She raised her wrapped up limb just a little, then put it back down to dangle off the edge of the deck. 

"Do you need me to carry you?"

The words were off his tongue before he could ever dream of stopping them. 

Her raised eyebrows told him all he needed to know. Internally, he began to smack himself. Whatever force had possessed him to say that was now the recipient of every curse he knew. His mind was a scrambled egg, and his tongue tied into a knot. In an attempt to recover himself, he gave a small, awkward smile. 

She simply stared blankly at him. 

And he stared blankly at her.

The awkwardness grew thicker and thicker, until Dimitri felt that he could cut it with a knife. 

Unbeknownst to the prince, Byleth was having her own mental battle. She could only wonder what he meant, why he would say such a thing, and what she could say in return to make him feel better. She chose to go ahead with the first words that came to mind, "Only if you want to carry me."

And that had been a mistake. 

Now _she_ looked like she was internally cursing herself. Whatever force that had just made her respond in such a way earned her inner despise and hate. She pressed her lips together, and silently stared at him. Her mind had gone blank. 

In a split second's decision, Dimitri deduced that the best possible way to go about this entire situation was to act as if this was entirely premeditated, and that he was just a concerned house leader that was providing medical assistance. "Do you need help getting anywhere? Manuela said to keep off your ankle for a while."

His response made the awkwardness dissipate like a mist. She inhaled heavily, glancing down at her work as if to hint that she would like to return to it. "I'm okay, thank you."

"Right." He bowed his head in a polite goodbye, relief filling his heart, "See you tomorrow in class."

She stared down at her paper and bit her lip. She waited for him to take a few stiff steps away. With his back to her, she looked up again at him and called out, "The gentleman's club is meeting tomorrow evening after dinner. We're going to play dominos."

It was a line cast out to him, seeing if he'll take the bait and let himself be reeled in. He stopped in his tracks, turning around to send her a reassuring smile, "I'll be there."

He was rewarded with another soft smile. 

One metaphorical butterfly fluttered around in his stomach. The world could've stopped spinning in that moment and he wouldn't have noticed.

It was only by sheer force of will that he ignored the butterfly, turned around, and continued on his quest. 

* * *

Annette was in a panic. A positively _horrendous_ panic. 

She gave another high squeal, rushing her way over to the oven to toss water onto it's fire. The bucket she held sloshed all over the front of her clothes, soaking them through until there was none left to actually toss on the water. In the oven, her strawberry cake was beginning to turn black with the flames engulfing it. 

She moved the bucket as if to toss it, and nothing came out. Hurriedly, she rushed back to the water spout. She grabbed the lever with both hands, yanking it up, and bouncing in place as the water shot out into her bucket. Once it was full, she picked it up again without bothering to turn the water off, and ran her way back to the oven to throw water onto the fire. Her clothes were even more drenched, now, but at least her cake was less on fire. 

She heaved a deep sigh of relief. The bucket slipped out of her hands and rattled against the stone floor of the kitchen. "They're never gonna let me bake again."

"Yeah, probably."

She screeched and whipped around to face the intruder. It was Felix, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed. He looked amused, his lips twisting into a smirk that made her cheeks heat up. 

"How long have you been there?"

"Long enough."

"How much did you see?"

"All of it."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

She didn't. But she would swear she that did until the end of time. Felix was rarely openly arrogant about anything other than his prowess in battle, and this rare show of it set a fire ablaze in her heart. She leaned down and grabbed the bottom of the bucket, readying it to throw through the air at Felix.

He was unfazed. He put a hand up, "Before you give me a concussion, let me turn off the water first."

She looked down at the puddle forming at her feet. The entire kitchen floor was beginning to flood with the heavy stream of water coming from the large faucet in the corner of the room. It drew from an overactive well outside of the monastery, and was known for filling up makeshift swimming pools in the heat of summer. 

Felix stepped through the water and towards the faucet, gripping it with both hands and cranking it closed. The water subsided to small trickle, to a dribble, and to nothing at all. Annette kept her eyes on him as he straightened up to face her. "You really are a du-"

He stopped upon noticing the tears trailing down her cheeks. One of them followed the path of her jawline, going to her chin and dangling, threatening to fall onto her already soaked shirt. 

"I-I just... I-I ju-ust... w-wanted..." She hiccuped, then covered her face with her hands, dropping the bucket onto the floor with a clatter and splash. It rolled in the water, coming to stop as it leaned against a counter. Felix kept his eyes on the bucket, rather than her face. 

She didn't seem to have any other words, not that she could speak them anyway. She was having trouble breathing, her hiccups and inhales making it hard to form any thoughts. Not quite knowing what to do, Felix began to slowly, hesitantly, make his way to her, "You were... trying to bake a cake. I heard your song about it."

She only cried louder at that. "Y-You he-heard?"

He nodded, lips pushed together in an expression of discomfort as he put a hand on her shoulder. Her sobs of frustration turned into anger, an entirely different type of crying. She took her hands off her face and clenched them into fists. "You're a nasty, mean, _mean_ man!"

"How am I mean?" He was flabbergasted, "I'm not the one who burnt your cake and flooded the kitchen!"

"Y-You didn't h-help me to stop it!"

Perhaps, yes, he _was_ a mean man. That wasn't a new thought to him. He knew he was quite mean, and he preferred it that way. He was not wise in the ways of niceties, nor did he have any experience in the ancient art of consoling crying women. In fact, it was the opposite of what he excelled in, which was being mean. 

If Felix knew anything, though, it was that actions spoke louder than words.

So, he left. 

It was a retreat, almost, a strategic one, and the only time that he would ever prefer to retreat. He left the kitchen, the dining hall, making his way through the courtyard and down to the marketplace below. He knew that by the time he got there, Annette would probably have calmed down and began mopping up the mess in the kitchen. On rushed, hurried legs, he marched up to a merchant, "I need cake."

The merchant was taken aback by the sudden request from the dark, angry looking student. "Uh, what kind?"

"I don't know," he spat out, "Your best kind!"

He ended up with a buttercream frosted strawberry cake in his hands, under a lovely lid with a ribbon just for added effect. It was pink and white, with sprinkles, and nothing about it matched his demeanor as he marched stormily up to the battalion guild. 

The guildmaster just eyed him as if he was a weirdo and a half, "Whatcha need?"

"Battalion."

"What kind."

Felix rolled his eyes, "I don't freaking know! And I don't care! A battalion that's willing to mop! And make it snappy!"

He paid 300 for the battalion, who followed him like lost and confused puppies as he led them back through the reception hall, through the courtyard, and to the dining hall, carrying a pink cake with a ribbon on the top. 

He arrived to the kitchen to find Annette, still soaking and shivering, wiping leftover tears as she tried to take care of her mess with an already soaked-through rag. She looked up, eyes widening at the sight of Felix glaring down at her, cake in hand, battalion of confused soldiers behind him. 

His look was dark, and he was silent. She stared back at him in shocked silence. Gently, he laid the cake down on a counter, turned around and looked at the battalion. "Clean this up. Then you're free of my service."

He left without another word. 

Annette, like Dimitri had experienced earlier that night, felt a single butterfly emerge in her stomach. She let it flutter for a moment as she watched the soldiers grab rags and begin to soak up the water. She sat there, in wet clothes, shivering, yet feeling warmer than ever. 


	7. Knight

_The world is indeed full of peril and in it there are many dark places._  
― J.R.R. Tolkien "The Lord of the Rings"

* * *

Miklan, unlike Lonato, did not have a funeral. 

His body laid on the ground, lifeless and mangled, with his eyes hauntingly open and staring at nothing. The blood of the demonic beast that he had become was splattered across the walls in black smears that smelled of fire and rot. Miklan was only a shell leftover from his transformation, all his bones broken from what he had become. The Lance of Ruin lay beside him like a discarded toy. 

The class was silent as they watched Sylvain look over the body of his brother. Mercedes was the only one fitting about, healing wounds and quietly asking if everybody was okay. Felix and Dimitri stood alongside their friend as he bent down to pick up the Lance and look at it's golden, rough surface. 

Dedue cleared his throat for attention, "Your Highness, we should leave this place."

Dimitri acknowledged him with a quick glance, "Yes, we will. Just one minute."

"No, it's fine." Sylvain easily recovered himself and slipped the lance into the holder on his back, right beside his steel one. It fit him perfectly, practically being made for him. "It had to be done. You get what's coming to you, and he... well he got it."

For just a second, a look of disgust crossed Ashe's face. He thought of Lonato, if _he_ had gotten what was coming to him as well.

Ingrid, who also had childhood memories with Miklan staring as the loud, rude older brother of her friend, refused to be near his corpse. She waited by the entrance for the rest of the class to catch up. Jeralt was near her, outside of the fortress with the horses and caravan. He left early to get everything together while letting Sylvain have his moment with what was left of his brother. The rest of the students began to follow Sylvain out of the tower, through it's winding halls, and out into the sunlight once more. It had taken them a week to enter Gautier territory, and it would take another week to travel back. 

As Byleth approached the caravan to help her father load up a crate, her mind was filled with what had just happened. 

A gaping maw, claws like daggers, and skin thick like leather. Eyes darker than anything she'd ever seen. In the back of her mind, she asked Sothis, "Will I become that?"

The young girl hummed in thought for a moment. She knew so much about the world that Byleth didn't know, yet when it came to human behavior and normal everyday things, she had been clueless. _"I'm not sure. I'd think with how much you used that thing just now you'd have already turned into something."_

She looked at the sword of the creator, it's ridges and cracks, almost golden in the sunlight. She had used it well so far. It was light and balanced perfectly for her. Yet, with each thrust of it, she could feel fatigue set into her muscles. On her other hip was a regular steel sword that she would revert to if she got too tired in battle. 

The class filed out of the fortress and gathered themselves together for their journey back to the academy. Artfully, it was an unspoken rule to not speak to Sylvain for the evening. He came off as nonchalant to anybody that did not know him, but his classmates had seen him enough to feel the anger radiating under his facade. His expression had turned stony, staring straight ahead, yet focused on nothing in particular.

The class had become accustomed to traveling long distances with each other, and worked like a well oiled machine. During the day they would move their horses and carriage faster than usual until rest was needed for the animals, take their breaks, and then keep moving. In the evening they would find a spot among the rocks to camp and train with whatever surroundings they had. Usually, it was mountainous, though as they traveled further South, the mountains began to dissolve into plains. 

Byleth had always thought Faerghus to be beautiful in it's own way. The Northern parts were tall, where one could have trouble breathing if they weren't used to the elevation. It was always chilly, even in summer, and the people were hardy and hospitable. When it wasn't rocky, there were vast plains that seemed to go on forever. Farmland covered miles upon miles, being worked by several families at a time. The citizens were used to toiling and working hard during the day, praying to Seiros at night, and returning to their work in the early morning. Byleth could appreciate their attitudes, and found herself happy to be in the Blue Lions.

The journey went smoothly, and by the end of the week they began to draw nearer to the greener, more forested mountainous area surrounding Garreg Mach. It was relieving to be home, and the next day would be a free day for the class so they could rest their weary bones. Sylvain's anger had begun to dissolve as they approached the academy. 

The students made a bee-line to the stable yard to put away their horses from the long journey. It was late, past curfew, though usually a few monks or workers would have been milling about the courtyard or at the marketplace. Oddly, nobody could be found. The market was quiet, empty, without light or human breath. Only the guards stood at their regular posts, looking very confident as they waited for whatever danger might come. 

As Byleth had finished putting her horse into it's stall, she began her walk back to the dormitory. A guard nearby stopped her, "You shouldn't walk alone."  
  


She always walked alone, it had never been a problem before. "Why not?"  
  


"The Death Knight's out and about," under the helmet, his eyes widened like he was a child telling a scary story, "He's been stealing people right and left, they say."

_They say_. To her, it sounded like a tale made up to scare the weak of heart. Yet, there were no cleaners in the dining hall, no stalls in the marketplace with open windows. It was as if this story had dug it's claws into the back of the monastery. 

"I think I'll be fine." She stepped away from the soldier, and went to continue on her way. She could only take one step until the voice of Dimitri cut through the night time silence, making her stop in her tracks. 

"Byleth, perhaps for the others sake, we should walk together." He was standing near the entrance to the stables, at the corner of the reception hall. Questioningly, she made her way back to him, confused at his response. He didn't look worried, and as she grew nearer, he began in a low voice, "Do you not remember the Knight we had met in the Mausoleum just several weeks ago?"  
  


Her memory jarred, and her eyes widened. Silently, she nodded. The two walked back to the stables where the rest of their classmates were finishing putting their horses up. Dedue and Felix, who were already done, waited outside of the stable, apparently having been already spoken to by Dimitri about the plan. 

The prince explained, "I heard from another guard on the way in that everybody had been taking extra precautions lately. There have been sightings of a knight dressed in all black roaming the forest outside of the monastery." 

Byleth remembered seeing Dimitri have a short exchange with a guard at the entrance of the marketplace, yet she had been too far away to hear it. She supposed that it was his training with leadership that made him always on top of things, it was something she was beginning to appreciate about him. 

Once the others finished putting their horses up, they began their trek back to the dorm rooms as a class. Sylvain nudged Felix playfully, who pushed him into Dimitri. The prince caught him, and gently pushed him back. Behind them, Annette pushed Felix, and he stumbled forward, making Sylvain laugh, which earned him Felix attempting to roundhouse kick the feet out from under him. He jumped back before he could be tripped, and upon jumping, he knocked into Ingrid, who proceeded to elbow him in the stomach.

It was complete and utter chaos. Byleth couldn't help but smile.

Mercedes was the one to step into the middle of the tussle. Her hands waved around gently, "Don't ever fight each other! We have to take care of each other through thick and thin!"

"We're just walking back, Mercie," Ingrid defended, though she sounded amused as she watched Sylvain double over in pain, "I don't think it's really thick, per say."

"Well, it's thin," she giggled, "that's a start, isn't it? Let's try to get to our rooms without me having to heal anyone."

As they resumed their walk, Byleth took a moment to muse over the thought of sticking with her class through thick and thin. Jeralt - who had already gone to his office for the night - was her only blood related family. The mercenaries she had ran with were always kind to her, but never familial. It was a feeling she didn't quite recognize, yet relished. She agreed with Mercedes, and decided that she would work towards the same goal, always protecting her family. 

* * *

Rhea had once again called Byleth to share tea with her. It had become a weekly ritual between the two women, with a different type of tea and pastry on each occasion. Byleth would always make time out of her schedule for the Archbishop, and would have to sneak her way past Jeralt so he would never catch her. She suspected that he knew of who she spent her time with, yet he never said a word to her about it. 

Every warning he had given her was wiped away. She chose to ignore his words of caution, and instead preferred jumping headfirst into whatever danger he believed Rhea held. 

Which was, apparently, spiced tea and blueberry scones. 

"Your mother," Rhea sighed, her every movement subtle and elegant, "she was always very willing to help. I'm always so overworked with everything that needs to be taken care, she would take quite the load off me."

Rhea never seemed much overworked. In Byleth's eyes the woman was always calm and stress-free. "I could help you with some work if you wanted."

The Archbishop looked hesitant, coyly placing a hand on her cheek as she looked at the student across the table. "I imagine you're already so busy with your classes."

"I don't mind helping." She insisted.

"Well, If you feel that you can make time for it," she reached over and took Byleth's hand in her own, "I can show you how to do my job. If anything ever happened to me Seteth would need the help."

She was joking in her own way, yet Byleth couldn't quite figure out what the intent behind the joke was. She was not so dumb as to not realize that Rhea was grooming her for something. And she knew Rhea would not be dumb enough to not realize that talking of her mother was the thing that brought Byleth back every time. There was a love between the two, a friendship grown out of the necessity they had for each other. Byleth just wished she knew what Rhea's necessity for her _was_ exactly. 

The next day in class a priest arrived at the classroom doors to fetch Byleth for her training under Rhea. She avoided Jeralt's eyes as she stood to leave her table. The class had been interrupted by the summoning, and watched as their classmate left with the priest. The doors shut with a bang behind Byleth as she departed, and Jeralt stared emptily at where she just was. 

It was a few minutes after Byleth had gone, and the students were back to talking among themselves. Jeralt finally slammed the chalk he was holding down onto his desk with a sharp thud, and eight pairs of eyes turned to look at him at the front of the room. 

"No seminars today. We're running laps around the Monastery."

A ripple of awws and boos ran through the class, but the students began to get up from their chairs anyway. Jeralt stalked to the doors and swung them open to reveal the courtyard, with the warm sun shining down on the grassy knoll. He watched the students file out and follow his direction to head to the end of the yard, "Line up."

Sylvain and Dimitri lined up next to each other, and stretched together in preparation for the exercise. As he reached his arms high above his head, Sylvain whispered to his friend, "I think Byleth is becoming a nun."

Dimitri leaned down to touch his toes, "Oh?"

"Which means she won't ever get married."

On the other side of Dimitri, Felix snorted, "Good for her."

As Dimitri touched the toe of his boot with his fingers, he sighed. He stood back up and put his hands on his waist, "That's her business."

"I thought you guys hung out." Sylvain stood up straight so he could look at Dimitri with a confused expression, cocking his head like a puppy. Nearby, Jeralt was distracted by a complaining and fired up Annette, who was accusing him of avoiding the lesson about dark magic that she had been looking forward to all week. Felix watched her ramble at Jeralt, a smirk breaking out onto his face. 

Dimitri looked at Sylvain, his expression flat, "We do a small amount, yes. I'm happy for her, it's probably very nice working alongside Rhea." Not exactly his cup of tea, but he could see Byleth enjoying herself. 

Sylvain gave up, and just ran his fingers through his hair, getting it off his face as the heat bore down on him. "I guess so, man. At least she's not one of those girls that are into guys for their crests. I actually can't see her ever being interested in _anyone_."

Upon giving it thought, Dimitri could only agree with him. Byleth could be playful when she wanted, she could be caring and empathetic, things he'd seen her express in the few months that she'd been at the Officers Academy. Yet, she'd never treated anybody differently than just a friend. Men, women, she didn't seem to have any interest in them past a platonic friendship. Dimitri could appreciate that as well, also being pursued by women simply wanting him for his status and crest. 

Nearby, Jeralt clapped his hands together to get the attention of the class. Next to him stood Annette, hands folded in front of her and a big, excited grin on her face. Felix's eyes were glued to her, though she took no note of them. "Alright, listen up! Annie here insists that if I don't do the dark magic seminar _now,_ then the world will end." His voice was laced with sarcasm, "So, we're not running. Go back inside."

Sylvain laughed, "Nice one, Annie! Good job!"

She furrowed her brows curiously, "What do you mean?"

Felix kicked him in the back of the knee, making his friend stumble forward, "Shut up! Just go back inside."

Jeralt remained moody for the rest of the afternoon. He scraped the chalk against the green board with ferocity, it's squeaks and scrapes making the students flinch at the noises. Annette was disappointed, for the dark magic seminar had been so aggressive that she was more focused on the dark cloud over her professor's head, rather than the information.

The bells rang as evening approached, and the Blue Lions exited their class with confusion and concern. Dimitri left the double doors, and caught the eyes of Edelgard leaving the Black Eagles classroom next to him. She raised a finely plucked brow at him, gesturing her gloved hand to the stomping, gloomy professor that had just left his class. Dimitri only shrugged in return. 

That night at the dining hall, Byleth wore a white lily tucked behind her ear, and Jeralt watched her from across the room, his expression unreadable and stony. 

She never did eat with her classmates. She would always grab her food and make a wide arch around the middle part of the room, heading straight for the doors in a wild hurry. Dimitri, who was sitting next to Dedue and chewing on a tasteless, tough steak, noticed her as she grabbed her food plate. 

The lily behind her ear stood out against her face. It was pretty, and it was entirely odd. 

She met nobody's eyes as she hurried out of the room, keeping close to the walls and avoiding the tables. Dedue followed her with his eyes as well, setting the bread in his hand back down on his plate. "Forgive me if I'm wrong... but isn't that specific flower only reserved for those favored by the Fodlan god?"

He would know. He worked tirelessly in the greenhouse day by day. The lilies towards the back of the greenhouse were only allowed to be tended to by a priest, and it was very carefully so. 

"Yes." Dimitri answered. She disappeared out of the doors and made her way down the steps. The summers had long evenings, and it was only beginning to darken outside. He had seen her eating by the pond several times, feeding the fish with scraps of bread and vegetables off of her plate. Flayn would usually join her, and occasionally Dimitri had been able to catch the sight of the two fishing together. He envied their ability to hold a fishing rod without breaking it.

Dedue looked down at his plate once again and began to pick at his meat, "Perhaps Sylvain was correct earlier."

"A normal nun does not wear a lily, though." He shook his head and picked up his bread roll, "It's none of my business, anyway."

He could only wonder what Jeralt had thought. When he looked behind him to the spot where the professor had been sitting before, he found nothing but an abandoned, uneaten plate of food.

* * *

The fear of the Death Knight had spread to the nearby villages and settlements outside of Garreg Mach. It was like a disease, a pestilence that was touching every person in one way or another. 

She sat on her bed, staring at her lily in the water on her desk. She had taken it out of her hair and was attempting to preserve it for as long as she could. The flower bobbed in the glass happily, and Byleth stared at it as she ruminated on her thoughts. 

The Death Knight. Something terrorizing the Academy. It had to be someone among them disguising themselves. 

The lily stared back at her wordlessly. 

Byleth could only wish that she wasn't so air headed. If only she noticed people more, if only she was truly as observant as she liked to think herself as. The Death Knight _had_ be someone in the Monastery. 

Rhea had specifically asked her to figure out the mystery, to find the lost puzzle piece. She tucked the lily behind Byleth's ear and told her she was special, that she was family to her, that she was comfortable with her, and that she _had_ to find the Death Knight. 

The pressure knotted in her stomach, making it churn. She groaned in annoyance and flopped back onto her mattress. 

She stared at the patterns etched into the wood of her ceiling. When she lay awake at night, she could make out shapes in the patterns, and would tell herself stories about them. Her eyes settled on one that looked like a dog head - she had named it Frederick, the dog - and her mind wandered even farther. 

Sothis sighed. The only place where the girl would actually show herself was in her room. She floated, delicate feet never touching the ground as she meandered about Byleth's quarters. Green curls fell over her shoulders when she leaned over the student and glared at her, "Get up, you fool."

"I'm tired."

"You're always tired."

"So are you."  
  


Sothis had to stop herself from yawning at the thought. She straightened up and turned away from Byleth, pointing her glare at the wall now, "Laying there won't help you. Go do what Rhea told you to do."

"You don't even like Rhea."

"I don't like false intentions."

Byleth sat up, "Whatever intentions she has are unclear, yes, but I think she's genuine when she tells me how lonely she is." She defended, "I'm her friend."

Sothis gave her the stink eye over her shoulder, "You're her pawn."

"We don't know her intentions."

"I'm sure they'll reveal themselves soon enough." The floating girl began to fade away, yawning largely with a hand over her mouth, "Just don't lay in bed like a useless fool all night."

Byleth watched her disappear. Sothis had a point, despite how much it irked Byleth to acknowledge. She couldn't lay there uselessly, wishing she automatically knew what the answer was. 

She stood up and latched her steel sword against her waist. The sword of the creator leaned against the wall nearby, untouched since it's encounter with Miklan. She had yet to wear it around the Monastery for fear of driving other students away. Her eyes lingered on it's bony surface, and her voice was a whisper, "Maybe next time."

This night was especially dark. Stars twinkled against the velvet black background of the sky, and the world was being undertaken by a hue of blue. It was far past her curfew, yet the perfect time to catch a Death Knight. 

She walked down the stone pathway that led to the Greenhouse area, deciding to begin her search at the bottom of the Monastery and to move up. The merchant stalls at this time of night would usually be popping with energy and students breaking their curfew to buy whatever fancied them, but it was abandoned now. Cats and dogs roamed the pond area, only being kept out of the reception hall by the friendly doorkeeper in front. He was an ally of the curfew breaking student, never telling on them and getting them in trouble. 

The heels of her boots clacked on the floor under her. The marble of the reception hall was always shined perfectly, and at night every step echoed into it's high rafters. It was almost eerie, though Byleth found nothing to be afraid of in it's shadows. 

Ahead of her, a golden light flickered from the Knights Hall. Despite summer heat, the fireplace lit the room with it's glow. She entered the hall to investigate, and found Dimitri and Dedue as it's inhabitants. 

Dedue sat on the couch at the end of the room, book in hand. He raised his head as she entered the room, and lowered it once again to his book upon seeing it was Byleth. Dimitri kept his eyes on the sword he was sharpening in his lap. He sat in the very middle of the sandy training area, surrounded by mangled dummies. 

His eyes went to her, and he furrowed his brows, "What are you doing here so late?"

It was laughable, his confusion. It had to have been about 2 a.m. yet he seemed wide awake. There was not even a hint of bags under his eyes as he looked at her curiously. "I could ask the same of you."

His eyebrows raised, and he nodded, "I suppose you could, yes. But I asked you first."  
  


He had a point. On the couch nearby, Dedue's lips had twisted into a very inconspicuous, subtle smile at the exchange. His shadow was dark against the wall behind him, reflected by the fire in the hearth that lit the dim room. 

Byleth decided to tell the truth, trusting the prince and his retainer enough to not use the information against her. "I've been tasked with finding the Death Knight." She cracked her knuckles, needing to fidget with something as she spoke, "Rhea asked me to."

The prince had a spark of recognition in his eyes. He perked up, "She asked you?"

"Yes."

"I... must admit. I saw you earlier." He put the training sword and whetstone aside, then pushed himself up from the dirt. Brushing his pants off, he went on, "I thought that the lily was reserved for those favored by Seiros."

Rhea had told her as much, and assured her that it was entirely okay for her to wear it. There had been no explanation, leaving Byleth to make her own assumptions. "Rhea gave it to me. I don't know what it meant. I believe she's trying to train me for something."

He only looked at her, studying her, letting his eyes take in every bit of information he could from her demeanor. Finally, he turned away and leaned down to pick up his training sword. He held it loosely, naturally. He had been training with the sword more since the day with the orphans, realizing that he needed to be more well rounded with a variety of weapons. He stared at his dim reflection in the blade, processing his next words before he spoke. 

"Well, I'm happy for you. That's a very good opportunity."

Byleth let go of a breath that she had been holding. "I appreciate that."

In an instance, his demeanor took an unexpected change. He pierced her with his gaze. The commanding, authoritative look he shot at her had her frozen in place. "But, as your house leader, I will not allow you to wander around the campus alone looking for trouble."

He was met with a heavy, ruminating silence.

Three seconds passed.

Five seconds passed.

Seven seconds of heaviness inched by. Byleth's eyes began to narrow as she stared him down - and he stared right back.

" _Like hell you won't_."

"Byleth," he was stern, commanding, "you could die."

"You sound like my father."

"You don't even have the sword of the creator on you!"

No, she didn't. She never carried it while at the academy, even at night. She supposed having it would have made her journey safer, but it was too late now. She looked at Dimitri incredulously, "Are you saying this because I'm a girl?"

He was taken aback now. He had tried desperately to not mirror the old fashioned mindset of his ancestors, he knew Ingrid would scold him for ever singling out women as pets that needed to be taken care of. He truly believed Byleth to be capable, just _happening_ to be a woman. "I would be concerned about anyone, of any gender, wandering around at night. Jeralt himself avoided fighting that... that _thing._ I'm your house leader, as well as your friend, and I feel it to be my duty to keep you from doing something foolish."

She watched him speak, her expression turning into one of disappointment. Dedue got up from the couch and walked towards her, closing the doors to the Knights Hall behind her with a slam. She was trapped, now, an ant under Dimitri's commanding, clear eyes. 

"Thank you, Dedue." He nodded to his retainer. He earned a nod in return, and Byleth watched the tall Duscur man return to his couch and pick up his book. She looked back at Dimitri wordlessly, and his expression only softened, "You're looking at me as if I just stole all of your food. It's only for one night. We'll walk you back to your room if you're ready to go back."  
  


She was defeated. "No, I'm not ready." Laying in the bed staring at the ceiling didn't sound appealing to her, despite the heaviness of her eyes. "And it won't be for just one night. I don't sleep well. If I'm commanded to not wander the monastery, then I'll just be in my room staring at a wall for hours."

It was a conflict that the prince could understand. He had the same problem, and had suspected as much from her as well. The amount of coffee the two of them could put down in one morning of class never failed to surprise him. "You can stay here any night you wish. I'm usually here until 4."

4 a.m. Goodness, the poor man was sleep deprived. His face didn't show it, and Byleth wondered just how he wasn't collapsed on the ground in front of her. "Is that because of your crest?"

Dimitri began to walk to the weapons rack on the wall and put the sword back into it's place. "With staying awake? I'm not entirely sure, but it would make sense for extra strength to give me extra stamina as well."

It sounded correct enough. Unfortunately, she had nothing of the sort, and was beginning to feel the fatigue of the day weigh heavily on her shoulders. She walked over to the couch that was not taken. It was beside the fire, and warmed very nicely for her. In the training area, Dimitri had picked up a lance, and began to work on his footwork. 

There was something comforting about being in front of a fire. The room was safe, the doors closed, the lights dim. Her own room was much smaller and more comfortable, due to it having an actual bed in it, but the couch she sat on was enough to help her relax. And if anything happened, Dimitri and Dedue would be awake to take care of it. 

Sleep hit her like an arrow in the back. 

* * *

A scream, high pitched and short. Coming from far away. 

The silence of nighttime had been broken. 

The blood in Dimitri's veins froze, and he stopped his training. Dedue put down his book to sit up and make a straight line for the door. Byleth, though, remained asleep on the couch. 

"What was that?" The prince whispered as his retainer cracked one of the doors open and peered out.

"There's nothing out here."

"It sounded like it was far away," Dimitri said, "do we dare investigate?"

"I don't know, my lord." Dedue pulled back into the room and closed the door softly, "It might have just been a bird. There were birds in Duscur that made that noise."

He accepted the answer with nod, letting himself unfreeze and return to his fighting stance, "I see. One might possibly be migrating."

Dedue returned to his book, and Dimitri to his lance work. In the kitchen area, a 3 a.m. snack that Flayn had been retrieving lay on the floor, dropped and uneaten as she was whisked away to the shadows. 

* * *

The news of Flayn's disappearance had reached every ear by the next morning. 

Byleth had been carried to her bed around 4:30, though she herself was passed out the entire ride there. Dimitri had carried her like a bride, attempting to hold her far away from his body to avoid implicating her. Behind him, Dedue followed with his hand on his ax, guarding the prince and his fellow student. 

Her sleep was troubled, yet she no longer suffered the same two dreams in repetition. In fact, she did not dream at all, not even a tiny snippet of something odd or quirky. She awoke the next morning, tired, groggy and sticky feeling. Sothis floated in the corner of her room, staring at her with thin arms crossed. 

"Something's happening out there," she informed.

"Something?" Her voice was gravelly with sleep. She grabbed her pink headband from her nightstand and quickly shoved it onto her head to push her bangs back. Her uniform was still on, wrinkled with her tossing and turning. Her socks were pushed down to her ankles. She pulled them back up and ran her hands down her skirt in an attempt to iron out the creases.

Finally, after proving herself mildly presentable, she went to the door and swung it open.

Sothis was right, something indeed was happening.

Students and workers ran around frantically, hands to their mouths as they yelled "Flayn! Flaaaayyyyn!"

Sothis floated behind her to whisper over her shoulder, "I think they're trying to find her. Like a very panicked game of hide and seek."

She knew it was no such thing. Ignoring Sothis, she stepped down the porch to approach the first student that was rushing by. "What happened?"

The student looked at Byleth with wide eyes, his breath short as he slowed his jog, "Seteth's little sister disappeared! It was the Death Knight," he was passionate, scared, "he's going to kill her and grind up her bones to season his food!"

It might've been an excessive thought, but this student seemed to believe it. He continued his jog down the courtyard, yelling the missing girl's name as he went. Down by the pond, several knights stood around the water. Byleth made her way down the hill to them with an uneasy fear settling into her stomach. 

Flayn loved the pond. She especially loved it at night. When the curfew wasn't as heavily enforced she and Byleth would do some night fishing and catch interesting fish that wouldn't come out during the day. Alois looked into the water, saying outloud to his fellow knights, "I don't want to think about... ugh. D-Draining the pond and finding her little body..."

Byleth didn't want to think about that either. She moved on towards the reception hall, going up the stairs and passing by the friendly guard who had a look of concern on his face. He eyed Byleth, "I haven't seen her. You're not the first to ask."

She hadn't of even said anything, though she was about to. She shut her lips and nodded at him, moving on with her journey. 

Ingrid stood in the hall, leaning on a marble column with her arms crossed. She caught Byleth's eye as she neared, and nodded in greeting to her. "You've heard?"

"Yes," she affirmed, "are there any leads?"

"I think... well, it may be kind of out there, but I think it's weird Gilbert guy." Her voice lowered to a whisper as she nodded her head in the direction of a red haired man standing at the end of the hall, "I feel as if I've seen him before. And he's always staring at Annie with an odd look."

Byleth looked at him from a distance. He seemed to be lost in thought, looking worried as he stared at the tiles on the ground and fidgeted with the hand ax at his waist. He was the same man who had gone with them to battle Miklan, though he was rather reserved and stayed to the back of the battle. She recalled seeing Annette send him a few concerned glances from time to time, but the two never shared a word. 

"I'll talk to him." 

Byleth made her way up the stairs to where Gilbert was waiting. The grey streak in his red hair only served to make him look older, more weary and worn. He seemed like a harmless enough man, yet Byleth knew that appearances could be deceiving. She approached him, "Gilbert..."

He looked up, giving her a respectful nod, "How can I help you?"

"Have you... any knowledge of Flayn?" Confronting him was difficult, as Byleth wanted to remain tactful, yet stern. She assumed that she most likely just looked as if she needed to pee with the odd way he was eyeing her face. 

"I have none. Am I a suspect?"

He had seen right through her. She only nodded in return.

"Why is that, may I ask?"

"Ingrid feels that she's seen you before, and a few of us have noticed you looking at Annie- um. Annette."

His lips almost twitched into a sad, longing smile upon hearing the nickname of the younger girl. He managed to contain himself, and inhaled as he began to explain, "I will do my best to lay your suspicions to rest. I assume you know of my... unique circumstances?"

Byleth shook her head. 

"Well, I used to be a Knight in the service of the Faerghus royal family," his voice filled with pride, and his hand rested on his ax as if the touch brought him to a more peaceful time, "Ingrid has most likely seen me in Fhirdiad. And Annette... well... she is..." He seemed to choke on his own words for a minute. He turned his whole body as if to shut her out, "Please don't ask anymore of that."

Byleth was interested in this man, who shared the features of her friend. His hair was the most striking resemblance to her, yet the expression he wore spoke of sadness with a depth that Annette had not yet reached. Byleth, respecting his privacy, said her goodbyes and moved onto the next lead. 

The entire monastery was in a blaze with activity and energy. Students ran back and forth, while others huddled closely in corners and discussed possibilities among themselves. Byleth ignored them as she headed towards the classrooms, aiming for the double doors with the blue banners on either side. 

Her entire class - minus Ingrid - had gathered inside, and seven pairs of eyes turned to her as she walked in. Ashe was the first to greet her, "Thank goodness you're here! We thought you might've been kidnapped too."

Byleth's eyes met Dimitri's. He looked as if he'd gotten a full night of sleep, though she knew he hadn't. He looked back down at the table in front of him. "I just slept in," she explained, now taking in her classmates fully, "Did I miss any important meetings?"

Mercedes was determined, her hand clenched into a fist, "We're going to find Flayn!"

And that was that. 

No plans were made besides searching for the young girl as a group. The Blue Lions set out on their journey, a huddle of friends overtaking the monastery by storm. Ingrid joined shortly, and they made their way to the gardens to begin their search. 

Jeralt was found quickly enough, and looked displeased as his class made a beeline straight towards him with jumbled, overlapping questions of 'have you seen Flayn' 'help us find her' 'professor we need your help'. He could only put a hand up, silencing the students. Nine curious eyes watched him as he dug a hand into his jacket, anticipation rising as he searched for whatever he needed. 

Out came a wooden flask. He uncorked the top, took a swig, and heaved a deep sigh, "I have no idea where she's at."

The tension broke loose, and several of the students groaned. Sylvain laughed, and Felix only glared, unamused by the joking nature in a time like this. Annette pouted, "You're so mean!"

"I know," he pushed the cork back into the top of the flask and deposited it into his pocket once more, "I just needed a drink before I dealt with you today."

"Father- uh, dad..." Byleth used the D word, a sacred word that only came out when she truly needed it's power and sway. Jeralt's eyes squinted at her in suspicion. If Byleth knew how to enhance her cuteness, she would've. Yet, she didn't, and could only lace her fingers in front of her and look her father in the eyes, "Would you please help us look?"

He thought for a moment. 

Behind her, Sylvain whispered something in Dimitri's ear that earned him a punch in the arm. Byleth ignored the two, and leveled her father with a blue, almond eyed stare.

"I... won't."

Again, another ripple of groans and complaints. Ashe turned around to leave, "We should ask someone else."

"Hold on," he put a hand up, "I just meant that I won't run around all over the place with you kids." He leaned down and rubbed his knee, "My arthritis has been acting up lately, I'd prefer to stay in one place. I can tell you, though, that I saw Manuela running through here holding something in her hands. Something that looked like that Jeritza fellow's mask."

Byleth searched her mind for someone named Jeritza. Nothing came up, and she glanced at Dimitri for help. He recognized her expression of confusion, and filled in the blanks for her, "He was the Knight that always milled about the training grounds and wouldn't speak to anybody. He wore a white mask to cover his face."

Mercedes sighed, "I always felt like he was hiding something, but I never thought it would be _this_..."

Jeralt put a hand up, "Now, what I saw doesn't mean that he's the one who did it. Maybe they had a fling and she stole it, or something," he shrugged, "I don't know. But it might be worth looking into."

It was enough for Dimitri. He stepped up to the front of the group, ready to lead his small army to victory, "What way was she going?"

* * *

"I feel like this is a mistake."

It truly, honestly, irrevocably, just might have been. 

But Byleth was simply not ready to admit that. 

She sounded so much like Jeralt with her dismissive grunt and flat expression, "We're fine."

"Oookay," Annette noticed her friend's resemblance to her father, not enjoying it in the least, "but what if we _aren't_ fine."

"We are."

The mage gave up, letting it go as she followed Byleth down the dark hallway. Ahead of them was an open room, lit up by torches on the walls and hanging from the ceiling. She could hear the shuffling of shoes and muttered voices coming from ahead. A terrible feeling had settled into her chest, refusing to let it's grip soften.

Next to her was Felix, followed by Mercedes, Ashe, Sylvain, and Dedue. Dimitri, who usually took the front of the group, had left with Flayn and the other girl's bodies in tow, thrown over his shoulders like rag dolls. He was taking them back to the infirmary, as he was the only one strong enough to carry both of them safely. Manuela lay passed out at the entrance. 

Byleth had taken the lead now, and she fit the role like a glove. The class entered the room with a blaze of weapons and magic at the ready, taking the enemies by surprise. Warp spots glowed in the corners of the rooms, and different tiles lit up with a spell of energy underneath every other one. Whoever these mysterious soldiers are had been preparing for an incoming attack. 

The class began to battle, arrows and magical spells flying over the heads of others. Byleth led the charge, cutting them down right and left. Everything moved fast, a blur of fury and power as they fought through the mysterious soldiers. 

The underground tunnels were winding, dusty and dirty. The battle would have been the most energy the tunnels had seen in years. After making their way past several mages hiding behind walls, they came upon the corridor holding the exact beast Byleth had been searching for. 

The Death Knight waited, silent and imposing. 

He lifted his helmeted head to acknowledge the class that stood before him. His allies stood at his side, ready to attack. The Death Knight put his scythe up to stop them, "Do not move. This is my battle."

The other soldiers backed off, and he approached atop his horse. 

Felix looked at Annette, and she at him in return. 

He turned his eyes from her, and stared at the Knight in front of him. His voice was barely a whisper as he spoke, "I'll make sure you won't die."

Her heart swelled, and she whispered in return, "Thanks..."

The battle began. 

Byleth took off in a run towards the knight, sword raised and aimed for his neck. It only took a second for her to reach him, and only a second for the Death Knight to lash out with his wicked scythe and deflect her sword. She was pushed back, stumbling over her feet. As she did so, Dedue moved to swing his ax at the knight's wrists to disarm him, yet the scythe caught his weapon and twisted his wrist, making him hiss in pain and stumble backwards on his feet. 

Ashe took up the rear with his bow. He stayed far enough away to shoot, aiming for his head. The knight only had to duck, and the arrow hit the wall behind him and dropped to the ground. He notched another arrow, while Felix roared with anger and ran straight for the knight himself. 

"I am done playing."

In a flash, Felix fell to the ground. 

Annette screamed. Her hand went to her mouth as she dropped to her knees. The knight looked down at the now bleeding swordsman at his feet, then stepped over his body with his horse as if he was just an insect he didn't want to dirty his feet with. 

She felt everything, yet nothing, as she stared at the beast in front of her. A whirlwind churned in her stomach, and she was hit with a wave of nausea. Still on her knees, she raised her hands without thinking, and whispered the first spell that came to mind. 

Her hands glowed with energy, and a ball of pure light engulfed the knight. It was the first attack to have hit him. No happiness, excitement, or thoughts ran through her head. She just shook with pure rage, and began to crawl on her hands and knees to Felix. The others took no notice of her. Ingrid vaulted her spear over her head, yet it was dodged easily. Next to her, Annette saw Byleth's feet dance with her sword movements as she parried and struck at the enemy. 

She put her hands on Felix's back, yet she knew no healing spells. He was still breathing faintly, and she sighed in relief. "Can you get up?" Warm blood was pooling at her knees, soaking through her uniform and onto her skin. Her nausea only grew at the feeling. Felix didn't respond to her, and her panic grew. "Felix, don't be a jerk. Just get up. I haven't said thank you for the other night yet. Just... just get up, you jerk!"

The knight approached her. Byleth had been thrown further back now, hitting her head against the floor with the force of the thrust. He was now directly in front of Annette, and turned his gaze to her hunched over form. 

"Get out of my way, sniveling girl."

Annette had not realized that she was sniveling. She raised her fingers to her cheeks to feel the tears running down them, smearing Felix's blood onto her skin as she did so. Her legs refused to move, glued to the floor. 

Byleth pushed herself up from the ground at the right moment to catch the whip of a scythe, and Annette's lifeless body slump over Felix's. She could not hear herself scream, but she know she must have. 

The knight turned his attention to her, now directing his horse around the two lifeless students to approach her. Behind him, Sothis shimmered into focus with a glow of light. Her feet did not touch the ground, and she wore a pained expression. 

Her voice would not work, and the world around her was spinning. All Byleth could stand to do was mouth the words 'help'.

So, Sothis did. 

_"I don't think I could live with myself if I let this go on,"_ her voice was a whisper in the background of swirling, colorful whiplash. " _These children are not ready to die._ " 

The world spun, and it spun, and it spun.

It was a tornado with blurs and figures walking backwards among the winds. Byleth closed her eyes and let the feeling of energy and healing wounds tickle across her skin. It was only a second later that the tornado died, and she opened her eyes again to see Annette and Felix, alive and well, standing in front of her. 

"I feel like this is a mistake." She repeated. Yet, she did not know she was repeating. It was exactly what she had said earlier, glancing at the dark walls around her with fear just as she had done before. 

Byleth was breathless, shocked and ready to drop to her knees at the sight of her friend. Alive. Breathing. Safe. She managed to compose herself before she could grab Annette and squeeze her. Instead, she gulped hard and forced herself to not scream in glee, "I-I think... I agree..."

Felix glanced at Byleth, a glare, "It's _fine_. We've got to get to Jeritza before he gets away."

She desperately wanted to question them on if they had seen Sothis as well, if they had felt the whirlwind of color and the wounds heal faster than any magic could. Yet, she knew they wouldn't. If this was anything like the situation with Edelgard, they were entirely clueless. She, alone, had to live with the burden. 

"We need to get the knights and the teachers," she urged, "I want to go back."

"Are you kidding me?" He challenged. 

Sylvain and Ingrid looked as if neither of them could decide their feelings on the matter. He began to side with Felix, but hesitated. Ingrid, ever the diplomat, spoke up, "Why don't we take a vote? Who wants to go after Jeritza?"

Felix and Sylvain raised their hands. 

"Who wants to go get backup?"

The rest of the hands raised. 

The pressure on Byleth's shoulders lifted. She exhaled in relief and turned around, with the others beginning to follow her, "Let's go get some help."

_"Good choice,"_ Sothis sounded relieved as well, " _I cannot turn back time more than 3 times before you rest again. It would be best to make sure you can truly face him before you go back there."_

In her mind, Byleth whispered over and over, "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you so much."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading so far! I hope everybody is liking it. I crave validation so if you're feeling like giving any feedback then I'll gladly accept it!   
> Also, I have a terrible habit of editing for the millionth time after everything is already published, so if you notice word changes in anything you've read previously, that's just me working tirelessly to refine this mess.   
> Thanks for reading!


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